And Things Like Chemistry
by Mac-alicious
Summary: Maya is more than a little intoxicated when she crosses paths with Lucas at the party. So, when her equally tipsy roommate introduces them, it kind of feels like starting over. / / multi chap / / complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this is another GMW multi-chapter fic that I'm getting underway. I think this started out as a blurb, a couple sentences that went into the first paragraph below (and I think it was actually going to be an LWD fic at one point before I sort of altered it toward this fandom), and then I kind of ran with it. It's sort of in the style of one of my previous LWD fics ( _His Happily Ever After_ ) what with the parenthetical asides, although these ones are more elaborate and this isn't first person ramblings. I think this does most of the set up for itself, so I'll leave you to it. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac

P.S. This first chapter and the following two were written pre-season 3 (and actually probably mid-Season 2 as well, past _Texas_ , but probably before _New Year's._ I can't really remember exactly), so I would say it's a good AU story track after _Texas_ , wherein, given the time jump into future fic territory, it should be assumed that in high school the "triangle, not-triangle" was never adequately resolved in any direction. Chapters four and on are being written post the season 3 premiere so some elements might be alluded to but the plot arcs of season 3 will be disregarded. This is all just FYI at this point, so on with the story! Enjoy.

P.P.S. If the previous notes weren't an indication, this was, of course, started before the cancellation of the show. It's part of the reason it's been so long since I've posted anything, even though I have stuff piled up in my to type/post folder, but I'm not giving up on these guys season four or no season four. I'll be writing about them until I find something else that inspires me as much as they do, if that ever happens, even if there's no one else left to read it. Anyway, onward with this story, which at this time is completely written and ready to go. Hopefully you'll be seeing most of it soon.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **...And Things Like Chemistry**

 **One**

Maya is more than a little intoxicated when she crosses paths with Lucas at the party (if asked, that's what she'll blame the end result on, one hundred percent). She hasn't seen him in person since Riley's going away party, which was at least six weeks ago (or was it seeing Farkle off at the airport, which would have been a month—was it an airport? Maybe it was a train station. Riley was the airport. Maya's too far gone to bullshit her way through a field sobriety test, so she's not a reliable source of information at the moment. The key point here is there have been thirty some odd days since she's seen his Huckleberry face and that's an important detail when it comes to what happens next). So, when her equally tipsy roommate introduces them, it kind of feels like starting over.

"Hey, girlie, this is the guy I was telling you about, from my poli sci class," Kendall says, pointing vaguely behind her and then lunging to grab him by the arm and drag him forward into view. "Maya Hart meet Lucas Friar."

She can see his confession on the tip of his tongue (it's a metaphor, mind you, she can barely make out the nose on _her_ face), but she speaks first. Words drip out without ever crossing her mind (they do not stop for inspection, shed shoes and belts and loose change to accommodate an intensive check. No, they sneak through, hijack her mouth and send her tongue into a nose dive. Collision imminent, in five, four—explosions, mass carnage, BOOM—and man, she is much better at metaphors with a little alcohol in her veins than she ever imagined. Back to the doomsday counter...three, two, one…).

"Nice to meet you, Lucas," Maya smiles (to be polite, that's what people do, or so she's told) and reaches out a hand for him to shake. "Kendall has told me _so much_ about you. It's like we're best friends already."

He thinks she's joking at first, her vision clears enough for her to see that flash in his eyes, but then he realizes she's being serious, or as close to it as she has ever managed. He sees that she's actually pretending not to know him and he shakes her offered hand. (Now, here she'll pause to put on the record that he has to shoulder some of the blame because _he's_ the Moral Compass, _he's_ Lucas the Good. _He's_ supposed to know better. But he plays along. That's on him).

"it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, ma'am."

He lays it on thick with the phony exaggeration of his barely there accent and the _ma'am_ (that's the kicker, really it is. It's his way of giving her an out. It's her chance to laugh it off, make a joke of it and reveal their history, possibly with a slew of humiliating and hilarious Ranger Rick tales. And she _almost_ loses it over it, but for some reason, she's able to stay in check. No one is more amazed than her). He's toying with her, probably more than she is doing in return, but she started this, so she supposes that she deserves it.

…

There's more to it than Maya being drunk and having not seen Lucas in at least a whole month (even though it's the first time she's been _this drunk_ , and this is the first time she's gone this long with out seeing the Cowboy since she met him on the subway that fateful day in middle school, and, in the moment, the coinciding of these two events feels like reason enough). It starts long before then, the path that leads them to where they are no. So, she should really start at the _start_ if she wants anything to make sense (although, none of this makes sense, and retracing her steps is gonna do very little to make it make sense, so she should say screw it, but she's fighting for some kind of perspective through her alcohol induced haze, and that's better than nothing. Anyway, here it goes…).

It starts with a letter, not even one for or from Maya, oddly enough. It is the letter carrying the news of Riley's acceptance to UC Berkeley, to be exact. Riley had applied to an absurd number of universities (Maya remembers spending _days_ lounging on Riley's bed or in the bay window with a magazine or other distraction, while Riley agonized over obscenely vague application essay topics like "describe a place where you are perfectly content" or "recount a time when you experienced failure." There was a lot of Riley banging her head on her desk and balling up paper to toss aside despite working exclusively on her computer. It was a stressful time) and she is accepted to several of them—but not one of those other letters gets the reaction this one does. Riley tears it open and issues an inaudible gasp, because she sucks in a gulp of air so sharply that it's impossible for any sound to escape. Then she is bounding around the apartment, ricocheting off of walls and furniture, and squealing so loudly that there's no way the neighbors aren't convince that a murder is in progress. It's then that Maya knows she is losing her best friend to the Golden coast and there's nothing she can do to change that.

Riley is still running on high octane about Berkeley ("I'm gonna be a California girl, Peaches. Like Marissa Cooper! Only without the alcoholism or the dying tragically—" "—or the fictional thing—" "—so maybe nothing like her, but still! Four plus years of sunshine—" "—and earthquakes—" "—and surfing and the Golden Gate Bridge! California, Maya, _California_!") when Farkle finds out that the _entire_ Ivy League wants him, although that's hardly surprising. He's on his way to Massachusetts with the prestige of being a Harvard boy. After that it's like an epidemic of people escaping the city. Zay chooses to head back to Texas. Smackle's going to Yale, because she's grown to enjoy being at rivaling schools with Farkle. Charlie is moving west too, but toward the rains of Washington rather than the sunshine state. Even Missy says something about Florida, Maya thinks. She stops listening after awhile (because all that really matters is that Riley is going to be across the country from her, not just for a day or a week, but four years, _multiple_ years, because she's _in_ at NYU and it was always going to be the City for her) until the only person left to announce their decision is Lucas. She's waiting to hear that he's leaving her behind too (because, of course, he is. He's had schools wanting to recruit him for his arm and batting average since forever. There are scholarships on the table. These things are dream worthy). Only he chooses not to leave. He chooses NYU too (because sports were great in high school, _fun_ , and maybe baseball would have been a ticket to a better school—read: a more expensive school—but it's not his future, and he wants nothing to distract his focus from his education). All Maya hears is that she's not going to be alone.

Only, the semester starts and she's kind of alone anyway. It's not purposeful. They just don't see each other, for no other reason than they're busy (or Lucas is busy and Maya keeps up the illusion of being busy. It's amazing how much time is freed up in her schedule without Riley around to fill it. This is probably a hint at how their lives had been too closely entangled before, to the point of being unhealthy, but there's no worry about that now). There are her classes, of course, settling in, and studying—perhaps for the first time in her life by her own motivation. (She has to do things for herself, by herself, on her own now and she's actually _happy_ to, she's proud of herself for that, even if it is _so much_ work). Somewhere along the way, their friendship, no longer anchored by their relationships with Riley or Farkle or Zay, gets set aside for later. She imagines they both assume that it's something they'll return to later when things have calmed down, but until then, a month goes by.

Maya meets Kendall the week after Riley flies away, Berkeley bound, and it's not an instant connection, but it's close enough. Kendall is a lot like Riley, but also not at all at the same time. Kendall is that kind of peppy that needs an outlet, lest all that bubbly enthusiasm burst the person open from the inside out. Maya is well acquainted with that kind of excitable energy, and it feels familiar (which is good since everything else in her life feels strange, foreign and entirely new). The differences between her roommate and her best friend start with their chosen outlets. Riley expends her enthusiasm on innocent things, like optimism and hope, puppies and bunnies, the future and fairytale romance (yes, they've all grown up over the years, but Riley retains more of that naive, pure hearted joy than the rest of them. They've all toughened up a little, hardened, taken on sharper edges. Not Riley. She's all soft, smooth edges and fluff. The only thing new that Riley claims is a fierce bravery that leads her toward her next adventure). Kendall is decidedly not innocent, and once Maya's hooked in by the similarities to the best friend that is currently two thousand, eight hundred, ninety five and a half miles away (to be exact, she checks, thank you Google Maps), it's this part of her roommate that draws her in closer. It's the part of Kendall that is maybe a little more like Maya (like maybe the universe realized Maya and Riley were meant to be one person but by some filing error, they had been split in two, so Kendall was made to correct the mistake with all their best bits mashed together. It's a silly notion—and maybe another clue that they were a little _too_ co-dependent—but hey, Maya has a friend now that feels like home, like a kindred spirit, and she's not gonna complain).

Where Riley is all about finding Mr. Right, her Prince Charming, however long it takes (and this is not an exaggeration. Last year, Riley had told Maya an engaging story about a couple of senior citizens finding their soul mate in their eighties at a nursing home. With tears in her eyes, and not a trace of irony in her voice, Riley said, "That could be _me_ "), Kendall is grounded in the present (she doesn't use the term Mr. Right Now, but she is all about instant gratification). Kendall claims to have been a cheerleader in another life—as if the summer between high school and now wasn't so much a season but a period of rebirth—and that in that past life she had a total of one boyfriend because where she's from (and it's here where she waves vaguely in the direction of the Midwest) the cheerleader dates the football player, their lives peak somewhere around Thanksgiving in their senior year when their team gets knocked out of the playoffs, and then it's all downhill from there (and by downhill she means a hometown community college, marriage, kids, resentment for holding each other back from pipe dreams even they never _ever_ intended to follow through on with or without each other's interference, a cheating scandal, threats of divorce, lather, rinse, repeat—you know, _the usual_ ). But Kendall gets out, breaks the cycle (maybe because her dreams are a little more attainable, or maybe because, "And Maya, he wasn't even like the cutest guy there was. I mean, if I'm gonna tie myself down, I should at least _like_ what I have to look at every morning. He would have gotten _all of this_ ," she waves her hand circularly around herself "and I get what? A beer gut at seventeen? Nope, nope. That imbalance alone would have done more damage to our relationship than crappy jobs with crappy pay and three accidental pregnancies. No, I was out of there. One foot across the county line since I was born." These are the actual things the girl says, unprovoked, as the two sit in their dorm room each half focused on their reading assignments and papers. She makes Maya laugh, which is such a pleasant contrast to the times Maya wants to be depressed and collapse from exhaustion and isolation). Now that Kendall has shed her former life, she's flourishing. She has an in with all the sororities, despite her refusal to pledge any of them. She's a master at securing an invite (to _literally_ anything. Parties, concerts, bars they shouldn't be able to get into, someone's cousin's son's bar mitzvah—they don't go to that last one, but Kendall got them on the list _somehow_ for reasons unknown. She's like a stage magician and Maya doesn't want to know the trick behind the illusion, because it would diminish the air of magic that surrounds Kendall). At each of these occasions there is a guy—usually a different one each time, but sometimes a couple have a little staying power—and Kendall makes juggling classes, work, a social life and "relationships" look so easy.

Everything in Maya's life is changing and everything is harder than she ever expected, and Kendall makes this one thing seem _so_ easy. Maya needs easy, for a night, hell for a couple hours even. So, when Kendall starts to describe this guy from her poli sci class ("he's heart thumping attractive. I'm serious. He's got these eyes that are so intense, like you've got his full attention. Who does that? And, _and_ he's got this sugary sweet exterior, but, maybe it's a hunch, maybe it's just instinct, I think it's covering up this edge of danger to him. This guy is full of surprises. I _know_ it. I have a talent for fishing out who's got something unexpected up their sleeve and who doesn't. Like my ex? I could _smell_ the boring on him. This guy could be fireworks, Maya. Pure sparkling, Fi-yah"), Maya is intrigued. Despite Kendall's gleaming seal of approval, she claims he's not her type. She says this guy seems like a long game type of guy and that's just not her thing a the moment ("I like to roll the dice, grab a few Chance cards, maybe take a ride on Reading Railroad and linger in the Free Parking, but I've never seen a game all the way through. I lose interest around Marvin Gardens. I never walk the Boardwalk. I'm not a Pass Go kind of girl, if you know what I mean." "I rarely have any idea what you mean." But now Maya realizes where her metaphor savvy is coming from). Kendall believes he's more Maya's speed, and that a night out with maybe a little more company than just them girls is exactly what Maya needs. The poli sci guy is going to be at this party Kendall knows of, because she invited him, so they go and that's the beginning of the mess.

Maya goes mostly because it's a Saturday night and, for the first time in a month, she's not entirely swamped with coursework and readings. She could use a little bit of fun and stress relief. She lets Kendall persuade her into three or four more shots than she should have knocked back. Her head is practically a separate entity, floating and hazy and sustained entirely by tequila, by the time Kendall gets around to making the introduction. Everything has become like a boulder rolling down a mountain since Riley chose Berkeley, taking out everything in its path and only gaining more momentum as it goes. It shouldn't be a surprise that it has culminated in something like this.

…

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Kendall asks, with the fondness of a mother presenting her honor student for praise, and takes his jaw in her hand. She laughs lightly, shaking his head by his chin until he laughs as well, and pats his cheek as she releases him. "I'd keep him for myself if I didn't already have a little somethin' somethin' already waiting for me over there."

"He's pretty good looking for a Cowboy," Maya says, her eyes never leaving Lucas's even as Kendall draws attention to herself by re-situating her dress as she preps herself to return to whatever guy has her brief attention (Maya wants to call him Huckleberry, she can feel it on her tongue, ready to spill out, but she knows that's too personal, too Maya and Lucas when there's not supposed to be a Maya and Lucas yet; it'll expose them).

"I assume there's a compliment in there somewhere," Lucas says. "So, thank you."

"Maya's a cutie, don't you think, Lucas?" Kendall prompts. Her eyes trail over to the other side of the room. She's about to bail—all the signs are there, Maya has learned them well over the last few weeks—but she's gonna lay some groundwork before she does.

Maya raises an eyebrow at Lucas, an unspoken challenge as she waits for his response.

"I'm pretty sure cute does not suffice," Lucas's gaze is intense (and damn, how could Kendall be so accurate about his eyes and manage to let sharing his name slip her mind?)

Maya's face warms, and she'll blame the alcohol free flowing in her veins but she knows it's because in all the time she's known him, he's never looked at her like _that_ (his eyes on her had gotten a little charged back when they had that mild flirtation back in middle school, but not like _this_. Of course, when she was in middle school, she had never worn a barely there dress that dipped low at the neck and rode high on the thigh. Nor had he witnessed her soaring with liquid courage). There has never before been a moment when she felt this sexy in her skin, this splayed open and raw, but still so entirely in charge of her body. God, he makes her feel so good, electrified and humming with untapped power, and he does it with a few words and a gorgeous stare. She wonders if this is spawned from the freedom of making each other's acquaintance over again (they can shed their history, any of the baggage they carry, and that is terrifying and exhilarating because there's no telling what could happen).

Kendall glances between them with a smirk playing across her lips. "I think my work here is done. I'll be on my way, because my diversion for the evening does have an expiration date. I'll see you in the morning, Maya. Take care of my girl, Lucas."

Kendall waggles her fingers in a delicate wave as she bounces away, off to have her fun for the evening. Maya isn't sure what her roommate expects to happen, especially since she believes they're total strangers (and, honestly, Maya wishes she had some hint at what Kendall thinks because she has no clue what to expect herself), but she disappears into the crowd before Maya can ask. There's dance music blaring, a game of beer pong happening to their left, and dozens of people in various stages of intoxication all around them, but suddenly it's like it's just them.

"So..." Maya trails off, swaying slightly.

Lucas searches her eyes and flashes a lopsided smile. "What do we do now?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** To the reviewer who asked about an up in the rating, this story is probably going to linger at a strong T all the way to the end, although I do have another multi-chapter story that might head into M territory in progress. There may be a few bad words scattered here and there, but otherwise, I think they stay pretty tame in this one depending on your definition I suppose. Hopefully, I'll be able to get new chapters up a little sooner, but I'm strapped for time to type up each one, so we'll see how it goes. At least all the chapters are written. Anyway, enjoy chapter two. R&R. Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Two**

"Come sit with me," Maya says and stretches out a hand to take Lucas's. She's never heard her voice sound like that, low and husky, like an invitation (or more so, a seduction).

She half expects him to decline, to pull away now that they have lost their audience (surely it would be easier if that's what he does. She's certainly not going to come to her senses unless he snaps her back to reality). The night is one for the unexpected though, so, instead of being the rational one, he takes her hand, sliding his fingers between hers and letting her take the lead. (So, here's the thing, Maya is all about control. She spends a lot of time and effort keeping her life on a track that she can manage. Things can get hard, but here's always some solution in sight—this last month not withstanding—or so she tells herself. It's kind of funny, then, that he's deferring to her, giving over control to her—because usually she would want that, ask for that, take it—but this time she is so far from having a grasp on the situation. Still, here they are). She decides to tap into the illusion, maybe whatever side of her that is rearing its head now will know what to do next. She curls her hand tight around his, savoring the warmth of his skin against hers. A quick sweep of the room reveals that the only place to sit is one half of a love seat. She pulls him along after her and, when they reach the couch, she presses her free hand to his chest so he'll drop down upon the cushions. Before he can get too comfortable in his new seat, she drapes herself over him and perches herself on his lap sideways.

It's almost easy to lower herself there. Maya wraps an arm over his shoulders to steady herself. Her fingers linger at the back of his neck, playing at the length of it like keys on a piano. Lucas slips an arm around her waist, tugging her closer without really trying at all. She leans in, letting her forehead rest against the side of his head. They've never been this close (or no, that's a lie. They have been this close, maybe closer, flashes of his arms around her from behind and picking her up off her feet, her jumping up on his back with protective instincts kicking in, and his hands upon her face drawing her up and up and then no further. They've been this close before, but it wasn't like this, never like _this_ , whatever this is). Because this is a brand of closeness that only breeds more closeness. She can no longer tell if this is part of an acct she started or if her actions have evolved them to a new phase in their relationship (their _real_ relationship, not the newborn thing she created tonight). Maybe that should spook her, send her withdrawing into herself, but it doesn't. It might even be spurring her further.

All this makes her wonder what would have happened if they really had met like this for the first time. If they were just two strangers whose paths crossed in a wave of alcohol and hormones, would he have welcomed her into his arms? Could they have been this, this simple thing built of attraction and compulsion? Or is this still a product of their pasts, because it is the active choice to dismiss the parts that would hold them back and keep only the parts that set them free on one another? So many questions are swirling around in her head, but she's given up on answering any of them because he has one hand tracing shapes to her back though the fabric of her dress and the other creeping slowly up her bare thigh. It's a dizzying mix of sensations and it takes her a beat to catch her breath enough to speak again.

"So, be honest," Maya says. "What's your opinion on Kendall?"

Lucas's hands stop in their motions, but remain where they've landed. He cocks up an eyebrow. "And here I was, thinking she wanted us to get to know each other."

"A fair statement," Maya says and lets her fingers slide down his neck and dip below his collar. "But I think your opinion of her will be very telling."

"Well, she's an interesting character, I'll give her that," Lucas replies and the hand on her leg moves again, sliding upward until his thumb is gently stroking just under her hemline. "And she brought me to you. That might be her most winning quality. I rather like her."

"What you expect when she invited you here?" Maya asks.

Her free hand trails up his arm, from his hand at her thigh all the way up to his shoulder, and she tries to remember if his muscles were always like this (broad and strong from all his years of training on and off the field, but strung tight as if waiting, poised for what comes next). She likes the feel of him under her hand, so she strokes back down to his elbow, lingering for a moment there before working her way back up. She's never touched him like this before, not with any sort of intention, but she does so now. She wonders if he would have welcomed her touch before or if he even welcomes it now (she believes that he does, because her caress has inspired him to palm her back, forcing her closer, and from her seat on his lap, maybe she can feel something stirring in him, the same heated, coursing feeling that is currently flooding her as well. Whatever they're feeling, she's not going to call attention to it until he does). She closes her eyes and nuzzles her nose along his jawline until he turns into her, his whispered response coming in a small burst of breath against her cheek.

"Not you," Lucas answers. He maneuvers his mouth to her ear and his teeth graze against her earlobe once all his words are free. "But this is far better than any damn thing that I could have imagined, Miss Hart."

Maya releases a shaky breath and shudders against him. She is ignited (pure sparkling fi-yah, Kendall had said, and fuck if she wasn't uncannily accurate, though she hadn't been the first to draw that conclusion). With her breathing quick and her body still trembling, Maya pulls back to meet his gaze which is just as intense and electrified as earlier if not a thousand times more. She bites her own lip so she isn't tempted to bite his when his tongue darts out to moisten them. There is a heady moan at the back of her throat that she only just manages to swallow down before it can get free (oh, how she's made a mess of things. She's spiraling. She should try to find a way to climb out, but all she wants to do is keep falling, falling, falling if it's more of _this_ ).

"Let's get out of here."

…

Maybe it's the fresh air, or maybe she's losing her buzz, but once they step out of the party, their little charade falls away. Except, his fingers are still laced with hers and they're both still buzzing with the energy from earlier. Maybe that's what she wanted, to see what would happen once they were without the pretense she created (part of her had worried that Lucas or, worse, she herself, would laugh it off like something to become the foundation of a legendary inside joke, like they had been playing a game that has come to an end. Then they would forget it had ever happened and go on with their lives, forever living in the roles they had for each other _before_. But neither of them are laughing now). They are still in that little bubble that had enclosed them when Kendall introduced them, connected and drawn close to the other. They don't have to pretend that they weren't just intimately entwined (at least, intimate in her perspective) or that there's something driving them to stay touching, skin to skin, even now. But she also doesn't have to pretend that there aren't things she knows about him that are ingrained in her (little things, collected over years, that should probably be meaningless, and might be to anyone else should she ever try to explain them, list them off to an outsider, but they are things she finds to be so intrinsic to who he is as a person that she's carried them close to her heart). Like how his eyes light up when he's excited; she can remember how she always liked the way he glowed after leading his team to victory and he was celebrating (she saw the same spark in them earlier, but in a context she had never experienced before, put there by her hand in his hair and his fingers inching up her leg). She knows all his routines, all his tells, what they all mean and what follows. She knows he starts all their conversations with a smile (and it's not just his generic, everyday smile. It's one that's part good natured and part mischief turning up at the corners. It's a smile that says a half dozen things at once—hello, how are you, it's good to see you, what are you going to get me into next, I'm ready for anything, it's you and me—best of all, it's a language only the two of them speak). These are things she never wants to unknow, so to have the mystery of two connecting strangers and the grounded pull of seeing deeper than anyone else at the same time, it's the best of both worlds.

"I've missed you," Maya says as they walk, letting their feet guide them.

"Same here," Lucas replies.

That's the most they give each other, but that's alright. Maya's content to enjoy the night before them, so long as his hand stays in hers. She can feel the effects of the alcohol in her system wearing off. Sure, she is still a little giddy—a little too high over her usual threshold to not be chemically induced—but she's pretty sure she might stay that way with the way the evening is progressing. She had asked what Lucas expected when Kendall invited him to the party, and now, as they stroll along in silence, the sounds of the city and the world around them filling in for the absence of conversation, she tries to pose the question to herself. What had Maya expected when Kendall invited her to the party, with every intention of facilitating a meet cute with poli sci guy? Clearly, the possibility of it being Lucas had never crossed her mind—she might have handled things differently if she had. But what had she expected? That Kendall was going to introduce her to a guy, a supposedly cute guy. And then what? What had she been looking for? If it hadn't been Lucas, would she have been so quick to fall into a guy's lap or drag him out of the party and back to her dorm (because that's where she's heading now, she can tell once she takes the time to actually think about the path her feet are taking)? Of course not, this is entirely reliant on poli sci guy being her Ranger Rick. If it hadn't been him, she probably would have politely said hello and gone about her night on her own. She probably would have still left early and found her way back to her dorm. It wouldn't have been as good as this, couldn't have been, but this way is bound to come with far more consequences (more consequences with every second, most of which she won't be conscious of until the light of morning). Maybe she would have been better off with the boring, semi decent version of the night (without the reunion, without the unnecessary duplicity, without whatever comes next), but here she is, and here he is, and she wants to take the unexpected where she can get it (because the expected has gotten her Riley living it up in California, Farkle sciencing it up at Harvard, all her other friends scattered across the globe—or at least the continental US—and her alone in the city with a mostly absent Lucas. All of which resulted in her being so lonely that she let Kendall talk her into tagging along to a party where she was supposed to get over all that by sharing a drink with poli sci guy and maybe letting loose enough to wildly make out with him or something equally mind numbing. So, let's try unexpected and see where it takes her).

Her dorm building is looming over them now, and Lucas seems as unfazed as she is. Part of her thinks that she should say something, actually invite him up, give him a chance (another chance, he's had plenty already) to be the voice of reason, to tell her this whole thing is crazy, and knock some sense into her before they let this get any further, before it becomes something larger than them, unmanageable, or worse, irreversible. But, no, she's beyond good sense, so beyond that she can't even muster up enough to even question the decision she's making, or even hint to Lucas that maybe he should question it (turns out, when she relies on him to be her Moral Compass and he's a little navigationally challenged, the matter of which direction is the right direction is a cyclical conundrum neither of them are going to find their way out of). So, she doesn't give him a chance to refuse. She leads him right into the building, right up to her floor, and right into her room (and, really, this has to be some kind of movie miracle, because there were at least nine times they should have been stopped or caught and _nothing_ , not a single hitch or obstacle. It must be magic, because Kendall might have the prowess to sneak into, out of, or around places she shouldn't be or help a member of the opposite sex to do the same, but Maya doesn't. That side of her is out of practice, and she's seriously lacking in the experience required to be good at this sort of thing. This is some kind of beginner's luck or the universe's way of giving her another opportunity to dig herself deeper into this mess. Either way is possible, but the latter is more plausible).

"So, this is your dorm," Lucas says as he wanders in further, going straight for the right side (he barely spares Kendall's side a second glance, probably because he knows Maya would never put up a poster of a shirtless male athlete. She had a good eye roll when Kendall tacked that up, but as Kendall said "if you can't enjoy a good ogle of a beautiful set of abs, you're not a red-blooded American woman." This was yet another unprovoked statement that Riley would be ashamed of, but Maya had laughed off…and she's lost her train of thought again, because Lucas is _in her room_ ). He runs his hands over the comforter that Riley had helped her pick out. There aren't many other personal touches to her side of the room—no trinkets, or pictures, which would explain why Kendall hadn't recognized poli sci guy as someone already in Maya's life. "I can't believe it's taken this long for me to see it."

"Inviting you into my room might be considered quite sudden, a little hasty, _premature_ even," Maya said. After closing the door, she backs into it, leaning against it with her hands folded behind her. She's keeping her distance, weighing her options, and keeping her hands to herself in the meantime. "Depending on who you ask."

Lucas turns around to face her again. "I suspect you don't make a habit of bringing guys you've only known a couple hours back to your bed."

"First of all, I said nothing about my bed," Maya flushes a brilliant red (and, no, she can no longer blame the alcohol at all), "but you would be the first."

Lucas raises an eyebrow and promptly sits down on her bed. There's a smirk hiding in the corners of his lips. It's a challenge and when has she ever _not_ responded to a direct challenge (she thinks of them, hair wild, faces painted, her hands clutching his shirt to drag him in, and "you questioning my leadership, Hop Along?" There was a time when she thought that would be the closest she ever was to him. So, that's just another check on the list of things she has been wrong about in her life). Maya pushes herself away from the door and sits herself down beside Lucas. She starts a few inches away from him, but she slowly moves closer until she is pressed against his side (that's a challenge accepted, she waits to see his next move). He shifts a little, just enough to angle himself toward her. It succeeds in hooking one of his ankles around hers, making them press together even closer, and bringing his face down to hers. She can feel every breath he takes, in the warm bursts against her cheek and the rise and fall of his body, and it tempts her to press a hand to his chest to seek out his heartbeat as well. She has no reason for that desire, except only to see if it's in rhythm with hers, but she does it anyway. Her hand touches him first somewhere just above his stomach and slides the rest of the way up to rest over where his heart beats beneath layers of muscles and skin and fabric. She places her other hand over her own chest, closing her eyes as she tries to time the steady beats of both their hearts (it sounds silly in her head, because she must be imagining things when the ba bum, ba bum seems to overlap under her fingers, perfectly steady, in tandem).

Maya opens her eyes when Lucas reaches over and takes her hand from her chest. His fingers gently play with hers, brushing their fingertips together, lacing and unlacing their fingers, tracing his thumb over her palm and the back of her hand. His eyes focus on their intertwined hands and just that tiny bit of attention, that light connection, does ridiculous things to her. Her other hand curls into the fabric of his shirt and she holds her breath, waiting.

"Can I ask you something?" Lucas tilts his head as he continues to watch their hands interact. Maya nods, still without releasing her breath. _"Why_?"

"I don't know. I think part of me wanted to do over the first time we met. One that was all ours," Maya sighs and tilts her head to meet his eyes. "Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it seemed fair…"

"Hmm," Lucas hums. His eyes stay locked on hers. "This is different for us."

"Why did you go along with it?" Maya asks.

"I wanted to see what would happen," Lucas says.

"And?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"I like different," Lucas responds with a small smile. "You?"

Maya nods, feeling momentarily speechless and trying to convey how she feels with just that motion and her steady gaze meeting his. He's looking at her with that intense electricity again and it's delightfully unsettling (she needs to take a step back here, give herself a chance to breathe, because she is close to drowning in the overwhelming weight of his renewed presence in her life). Maya takes in a gulping breath and pulls away, sliding her hand out of Lucas's so she can scoot across the bed to lay upon her pillows. Lucas twists around to keep his eyes on her as she reclines next to him. She rolls onto her side, tucking one hand under her head and stretching out the other to pat the empty space beside her. When he hesitates, she beckons him to her and, once she crooks her finger at him, he gives in. Slowly, he lowers himself to lay beside her and rolls so that they are face to face once again. He mirrors her position, folding an arm under his head and leaving his other hand resting flat on the bed between them (it's a sight for her to have _this_ boy in her bed; it's innocent— _entirely_ , besides maybe how much of her is showing given how the hems of her dress have snagged and bunched with her movements—but it's something different, a novelty, and she's going to take the time to savor the experience, let it all sink in so it'll linger under her skin once he's gone).

Maya places her other hand over his, and links their hands together between them. She whispers when she speaks again, "Tell me about college Lucas."

"If you tell me about College Maya," Lucas counters, also in a hushed whisper.

"Okay," Maya nods, and so they do.

Eventually they'll have to have a serious conversation (until then they'll cover the simple things, the things they missed while they were skirting around each other's absences. He'll tell her about his classes and she'll tell him about hers. They'll skip over the things that involve people who have left temporary gaps in their lives, because this conversation exists in the overlap between the two versions of their relationship—familiar enough to be for the old Lucas and Maya, but vague enough to be for the Lucas and Maya created just hours before. The two versions weave in and out with each word, and at some point Maya will have to decide which she likes better). The meaning rich conversation can wait for tomorrow, or if her bedside clock is right, then for daylight. For now, they talk and talk until it soothes them to an unexpected slumber.

Maya blinks awake sometime later. She doesn't dare look at the clock to find out how much time has passed. There is just enough light coming in through the window to illuminate Lucas's still sleeping form beside her. She watches him for a couple moments, admiring the soft lines of his rest relaxed face. It brings a smile to her with such a giddy feeling). Before she can stare for too long, she carefully slides out of her bed, calling on all her reservoirs of grace to do so without disturbing her companion, for just long enough to change out of her dress into something more comfortable. When she climbs back in to her place, Lucas stirs and she winces as she prepares to apologize. Only he doesn't wake up, at least not fully. He shifts just enough so that his arm falls over her and once it's there, in contact with her, he curls into her and tugs her to his chest. She's surprised at first, but she gradually unwinds and relaxes into his hold. She's going to look a mess in the morning, all smudged make up and sleep matted hair, but she'll worry about that then. For now, she's going to enjoy the feel of being in his arms.

…

When Maya wakes up the next morning, she is curled in a ball, wrapped only in her own arms. For a second, she thinks to herself that it was all a dream (something only someone still drenched in dreamland would ever think), but then she realizes it's because Lucas has slipped from her bed, leaving her on it alone. He's not gone though, the sheets are still warm and alive with him, and there's also the matter of him standing beside the bed, leaning over her. It's his gently nudging hand on her arm that is the source of her return to reality.

"Hey," Lucas says in that soft tone reserved for mornings (that husky intonation that seems to imply that the early daylight make a person incapable of a higher volume). "I figured I should head out, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

Maya's eyes are still half lidded as she looks up at him and she's not sure she trusts anything to come out if she opens her mouth just yet. Instead, she sits up, stretching lazily, the sound of her joints protesting as she unfolds herself filling her ears. She tries to fight off the yawn that rises up in her, but eventually succumbs to it, delicately covering her mouth with one hand as she stretches her other limbs further.

"Mornin'," Maya manages once the yawn has passed and her body is approaching closer to limber.

"Morning," Lucas sends back with a sleepy smile.

She doesn't want him to leave (which is silly, because what would she be keeping him there for? She doesn't know, but she's enamored by the idea of it) even though she knows she probably should have him clear out before Kendall returns. She doesn't let herself get too deep into that internal conflict.

"I'll walk you out," Maya says, even though out is only a few feet away. She slides out of bed in one fluid motion and gestures him toward the door. She takes these last seconds trying to come up with something worthwhile to say, but besides coming up blank, she gets no chance to say anything else.

When Maya opens the door and Lucas steps out, he turns to face her where she's framed in the doorway. He also seems poised to say something she won't get to hear, but with his back turned he doesn't see what Maya sees—which is Kendall coming the last steps down the hall to them, hair a wild tangle, makeup half run off, still in last night's clothes and heels in hand. Kendall waggles her eyebrows at Maya, just as she slides past Lucas, alerting him to her presence. Maya swallows and forces a, _hopefully_ , neutral expression onto her face.

"Good morning, Kendall," Lucas says and clears his throat as he looks at his feet.

"Well, well, well, good morning indeed," Kendall replies, eyes trained on Maya knowingly. She scoots past Maya into the room and then gives Maya a gentle shove so she stumbles over the threshold into the hall way. Kendall looks at Lucas over Maya's shoulder and winks. "I'll give you some privacy."

The door closes promptly after her, leaving Maya and Lucas alone in the hallway.

Maya rolls her eyes. "You know she thinks we had sex now."

Lucas shrugs, and it's far too early for the smirk he wears. "She already thinks quite a few things about us that aren't true, what's one more thing?"

"What's one more thing," Maya repeats and before she can say anything else, Lucas speaks again.

"I had a great time," Lucas says. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek (maybe a little dangerously close to the corner of her mouth, but who can tell what he was aiming for). "I'll see you."

"I'll see you," Maya repeats yet again, but he's already down the hall to make his exit.

Maya is in something of a daze when she returns to her room. She feels like she's floating, even though her feet are firmly planted on the ground (she wonders if this is what Rileytown feels like, all fluffy positivity, without any of the heavy weight of clarity). It's a haze that's almost immediately interrupted.

"So…" comes Kendall's muffled voice from where she's collapsed face down on her bed, still fully clothed. "How was your night?"

"Enlightening," Maya says, as she sinks down to sit on the edge of her own bed, because it's true. She doesn't mean to encourage Kendall, but it slips out.

Kendall's head lolls to the side so she can look over at Maya. "You've got it bad."

"No," Maya frowns (that's not it, that's not it at all, is it?).

"Yes, yes you do," Kendall replies ("I know these things." She doesn't say that now, but she has before. "I know these things," she told Maya once when they were out for a coffee and they stumbled across a possible missed connection happening right in front of them. "He's doomed to always tragically pine after her. He'll carry the memory of this brief encounter with him through two mediocre marriages fated to fail because of a five minute what if in college. And if magic really exists, maybe they'll meet again in their later years, but he'll be already attached to wife number three and she'll have two kids. And they'll have closure, but their lives will be tinged with regret anyway." "How do you know he even likes her? He's the one leaving." "I can always tell. It's like a sixth sense, but attuned to desperately reluctant infatuation." "You're ridiculous." "You're a skeptic." "No more Rom Coms for you. You're cut off." "You'll see, one day, Maya. _You'll see_.") "Are you going to see him again?"

Maya's mouth bobbles open and closed, unsure of what to say given the absurd circumstances she's landed herself in. She could take this opportunity to tell the truth, spill it out, make the joke of it she should have right off the bat, or she could lie again (And if she lies, should she say yes and continue on with the charade, act like he's just some guy her roommate hooked her up with at a party? Or say no, which would crop up a whole other mess of concerns—like does that mean she has to hide her established friendship with Lucas from Kendall, or go back to not seeing him at all?) Her head is a jumbled mess of indecision and nothing comes out.

Kendall takes the lack of response as that telltale reluctance and means to head it off. "You are going to see him again. Uh huh, yep. I'll see to it. _Done deal_. Only later, after twelve hours of sleepytime, a bottle of aspirin, and a liter of black coffee administered by IV. Goodnight."

Maya takes in a deep breath and releases it in a huff as she falls back onto her bed. What has she gotten herself into?

Done deal indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here's chapter three. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Three**

Riley hears about it from Farkle, who is informed of it by Lucas in _confidence_ (but the boy has never learned a fact that he hasn't shared with Riley; it's why she knows so much about microbiology and wishes she didn't. She has dreams sometimes, that could probably qualify as nightmares, about giant microorganisms—terrifying enough in that contradiction—that chase her around and make her juggle. Riley gets irrationally anxious that people might randomly request that she juggle for no reason anyone can fathom. It manifests in strange ways. They've learned to accept it. Anyway, Riley could stopper the flow of information, but then she would miss out on tidbits like this thing with Maya and Lucas and she lives for things like this). Lucas tells Farkle about their run in that next day and within an hour of that conversation, Riley is calling Maya, and everyone knows before Maya even has a chance to talk to Lucas again.

"Hey, Riley, what's up?" Maya answers with the sunshiny disposition she reserves for her best friend. Although that dries up almost instantly once Riley opens her mouth.

"You acted like you didn't know Lucas?!" Riley shouts so loudly that Maya has to pull the phone away to protect her eardrum (and still she's pretty sure that Riley could be heard by everyone on her floor, in her building, and through the rest of the borough, maybe up and down the entire eastern seaboard). " _What were you thinking_?"

"If I admit to not thinking, will that save me from the lecture I assume you have prepared?" Maya asks when she feels it is safe to bring her phone back to her ear. "Are there notecards, Riley? Tell me there are, because that is a silly technique you borrowed from Lucas and there is no place for it here."

"Are you talking about Lucas, our friend we've known for years, or _Lucas_ , the rando you just met?" Riley says (she probably has an eyebrow raised, that's what Maya pictures: Riley, perched cross legged on her bed in her cute, little, Golden State dorm room, hair tied up in a messy bun, ridiculous look on her face, half amused, half confused, and academic paraphernalia scattered around her. It's the pristine image of a California college girl and she can see it all over Riley, even when being chastised). "Because I hear you invited at least one of them up to your room."

"Hardy har," Maya rolls her eyes and falls back to lay on her bed. "But, fair point."

"Heck yeah it's a fair point," Riley says. "It's the fairest point there is. Look up fair point and this is the fair point you will find. I'm getting off track here. I believe you owe someone an explanation."

"Lucas?" Maya says.

"No," Riley sounds insulted. " _Me_ , Maya. Lucas left your wild rendezvous and called up Farkle right away. And me? What do I get? Not a single peep from the person who _claims_ to be my best friend in the world."

"We're in different time zones, Riles," Maya replies.

"I'm hearing a bunch of words, but no explanation," Riley says.

"I suppose you won't be satisfied it I tell you that I was going to call you later," Maya rubs a hand over her face (and wishes she could dissolve right into her pillows and disappear, even though that would have absolutely no effect on her situation given that hiding from Riley over the phone is redundant).

"I might be mildly appeased if that in any way resembled the truth," Riley says. "Since that is the biggest load of nonsense you've said during this phone call, I'm gonna say, no, I'm not the least bit satisfied. You want to try again?"

"Okay, fine, you want the truth? I wasn't going to call you, Riley, because I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to have to hear how it was wrong and stupid and impulsive and the kind of spontaneous I, as a person, should avoid," Maya spills out. "Because—and here's the god's honest truth of it—I would do it again."

Maya has only had a short time to think about everything, but that's what she's settled on. While she will concede that the lists of things she knows is substantially smaller than the list of things she doesn't know, she is growing more certain that her willingness to do it all over again is something firmly set on the former. Clearly, Riley is never going to see it this way, what with her idealism and her sense of dichotomy in the realm of right and wrong. That's why she hadn't planned on calling and filling Riley in on this. This is clearly not up her alley, but Maya is finding, it is centered perfectly in hers. See, Farkle has computers and numbers, politics and science (and god damn everything really and he must have something up his sleeve on this matter for Lucas to so willingly shar the details of this situation). Riley has feminism and equal rights and the can-do attitude of someone who wants to change the world and enough hope and optimism and faith, in reality as in fairytales, to believe that she can (and if anyone will do it, it's Riley because she's persistent and knows how to surround herself with the right kind of people, like Farkle and Lucas and her eternal cheerleader, Maya). Lucas has his animals and compassion and how to put the fluffies and furries back together when they fall apart (and so much more, things Maya can't even begin to put into words right now). And Maya, she has art, creativity, mad skills at quarters (go figure) and things like chemistry (but not the kind that gets tallied onto Farkle's list). This thing with Lucas, it falls nicely into that last category, because if she's honest with herself, she knows that she has never felt more comfortable with him than when they were pretending they had just met. This means that there's something, something she hasn't put a name to yet, that has held them back from each other. Only when they released their ties to their shared pasts were they able to truly see how they worked together, how each action inspires reaction with each other (so maybe it is a little like that other kind of chemistry, and this is an experiment, but it's all in terms that Maya understands on a level far deeper than her genius friend). She knows what she's doing, or at least what she wants to do, because this is where she thrives. This is her area of expertise (human interaction on a personal, emotional, physical and chemical level, but without all the restriction of scientific fact. She doesn't need logic, or advice from her well-meaning best friend. This is something she must feel her way out of, and she wants to, even if it is ill advised). So, she has this Lucas thing handled, completely under her control (or, _really_ , she probably doesn't at all, not in the slightest, but she's going to try to see it through and that's the best she's got).

"You would do it again?" Riley repeats, turning it into a question (that sounds more like an incredulous accusation than anything).

"See? This is why I wasn't going to call you," Maya says. "You're getting judge-y. You're a sweetheart, Riles, but you do this."

Riley gasps too dramatically for it to be anything but forced and phony. "Judge-y? _Me_? Never. I take offence to that kind of slander."

"It's not slander if it's true," Maya replies, "ask your mother, she's the lawyer."

"Well, it's _not_ true," Riley says.

"I beg to differ."

Maya twists her blankets over her legs and rolls over so she can cover herself completely. It's better if she gets comfortable for this, because the way they're circling around the same little things has the makings of a rather long conversation. This is how it's gone with Riley since they've parted ways across the country—they'll not talk for a few days and things seem to save up, only to have them all come spilling out in one five-hour sprawling, rambling, barely coherent conversation that hardly deserves the label. She nestles down into her bed and props her phone where it can press against her ear without her holding it. Riley always comes in hot (like screeching her first, mostly rhetorical question with the power and volume of a velociraptor), then tapers off (like with this run around that's turned into something about Riley herself and not the Maya and Lucas debacle at hand), and finally builds back up to what she really has to say (but Maya isn't exactly in the mood to hear what Riley wants to say about it, so the only choice is to head her off). Maya trails her finger down the seam of her comforter and takes a deep breath before she launches in.

"Okay, Riley, we both know how this is going to go, we'll do this irrelevant bickering for a while until I am just worn down enough to let you have free reign to say whatever you want to say. And when you get the chance to say it, you're gonna tell me how wrong it was, what a mistake I made, and, honey, as much as I appreciate your concern, I don't want to hear any of that. I don't know what Lucas said to Farkle, or what Farkle told you, or what kind of telephone style distortion of the truth has or hasn't occurred. I don't k now what I was thinking exactly when I did what I did, but, for whatever reason, it kinda works. Until such a time as it _does not_ work, I'm gonna see where this goes."

"But Maya—" Riley starts.

"Look, kid, I get that you're itchin' to jump in here and do your Matthews magic and fix all my problems the way you have tried to our entire lives," Maya interrupts. "But you're there and I'm here. And there is not a problem for _you_ to fix. I'm not sure it's a problem at all."

"This could go all sorts of wrong," Riley says. Her voice has gone quiet in the wake of all that Maya has said.

"So can most things," Maya replies (this is especially true for her, given that odds are, in her life, that anytime she makes a choice the worst thing that could possibly happen will. Or, at least, it feels that way sometimes).

"I hope you know what you're doing," Riley says.

"Of course I don't," Maya laughs a little nervously (but she knows that she's getting into it with her eyes open, which is honestly the most she can ask for in this situation). "I suppose I'll figure it out though."

"Well, I have faith in you, Maya," Riley says.

"You have faith in everything, Riley. It's who you are."

"Yes, but in you most of all," Riley says, "but you can always come to me if you find you feel otherwise about this down the line."

Maya grits her teeth and crinkles her nose. She rolls onto her back to glare up at her ceiling. She holds the phone away from her face as she tries not to groan or growl into the phone. Despite her frustration, she can't let Riley pick up on it—it'll only drag this talk out even longer. Riley and her good intentions are appreciated at most times, but pushy and Riley become synonymous after a while (and if there is one thing that Maya cannot take lying down is being pushed and pushed and pushed). There's already enough physical distance between her and Riley; she isn't going to deepen it any further now (not when she's only regained so little from her life before, not now, not over this). So, she rolls her eyes, knowing Riley can't see it and lets the mild annoyance knot away in her stomach for a few moments where it can't do any damage—she'll find a way to release it later.

"I'll keep that in mind," Maya says. She is distracted by the sound of a key in the door lock and she sees her out coming through the door. "Hey, Riles, I gotta go. Kendall has finally decided to make an appearance."

"Alright, Maya," Riley says, "but call me, ya know, if you decide you have something you want to talk about."

"Yeah, yeah," Maya responds. "I'll call you later."

Maya lets Riley get one more quick goodbye before she hangs up. She clenches her fingers tight around the phone and shakes her fist in the air as she silently screams out her frustration. She kicks out her legs in a juvenile display of a tantrum and gets tangled even more into her blankets. Kendall appears, leaning over her bed with a bemused expression on her face—one eyebrow crooked and a ghost of a smile. Maya breathes in deeply and tries to force a small smile onto her face for Kendall's benefit, but it turns into something of a grimace.

"You look displeased," Kendall says and bounces down upon the bed beside Maya. She pets at Maya's hair and offers her a sympathetic pout. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Maya shakes her head. She's not going to get into this, not right now (besides, half of it is stuff she can't even bring up to Kendall anyway, so there's that). She needs to cool off and talking about it isn't going to do the job.

"I know what you need," Kendall says. She pats Maya once more and pops back up onto her feet. "You need to come get a coffee with me."

"Coffee? Are you sure?" Maya pinches her lips together. "I'm already on edge as it is. The last thing I need is to be _more_ jittery."

"Nonsense. Coffee is a gift from a higher power. It's my favorite cure all," Kendall tugs at Maya's blankets. "Let's go. Up, up."

"Fine," Maya groans, tossing aside her blanket and getting to her feet. "But you're paying."

"I think I can spare a few bucks for my ailing friend," Kendall says. She links her arm with Maya's and guides her out of the room. (Maya can't match her enthusiasm. She's far too soured by her gloomy mood, but Kendall is also operating at a level of zeal that comes from an undeterminable source. There's something driving under the surface that Maya can't put her finger on, so she doesn't try). "Let's go. I'll even spring for the extra whip and syrup. Get you a good sugar buzz."

"I won't say no to a sugar buzz," Maya says.

Kendall leads the way to the nearby coffee shop and Maya focuses on one foot in front of the other. The shop is particularly busy at this time of day, but neither girl is in any kind of rush. They wind their way through the line—Maya, silently and absently tapping away at her phone, and Kendall, yammering away to fill the time with anecdotes about her exploits from the previous night. Maya listens with half an ear, but her obvious lack of attention does nothing to deter Kendall from continuing her jaunt down memory lane, neither does needing to order at the counter ("and so he says, 'can I see you again?' and I'm like—yes, two of them, extra whip, do not skimp on the syrupy goodness—anyway, I told him, 'honey, I had a great time, but'—no, I need caffeine, man, I'm talking expresso, double, triple shots, whatever will make if feel like I'm not running on three hours of crappy sleep. _Thank you_ —where was I? _Right_. I was blowing him… _off_. I was blowing him off. Geez, man, pick up your jaw. Hundreds of people in and out of here every day, _I know_ you've heard worse. Don't even play with me.") After leaving the barista a little worse for wear (traumatized, Maya would say, given the poor boy's shocked still expression), they collect their freshly made drinks and endeavor to find somewhere to sit in the crowded shop.

"I'm telling you, there has to be somewhere to sit in this place," Kendall says as they weave around occupied tables. Maybe someone will be willing to share. Like, look what we have here, a gentleman sitting all alone at a table far too big for just himself. Perhaps we can join him."

It takes Maya a full thirty seconds to realize what's happening. Her mind is divided amongst too many things—the post she's scrolling through on her phone, her attempt to get her straw into her mouth without looking, and navigating the shop without bumping into anyone or anything—and she almost misses the change in Kendall's tone. It's a Riley tone, or she things of it that way; it's the one Riley uses when a scheme of hers has been successful. It's not until Maya looks up (a little dazed and with her straw dangling from the loose grip of her teeth) that she discovers why Kendall has acquired and employed that particular tone of triumph. The aforementioned gentleman, seated at the table in front of them, is none other than Lucas Friar, their mutual acquaintance. Maya should be surprised, but after years of Riley pulling similar shenanigans, this is almost _normal_.

Lucas does look a little surprised, but less to see her and more because Kendall is shoving her down into the chair across from him before anyone can get a word in. Maya drops into place with a huff of air knocked out of her, caught off guard by the sudden descent. She catches her drink before any of it can spill. Once she locks her gaze on his, the connection doesn't waver. Not even when Kendall grips her shoulder in a tight squeeze and remarks about what a coincidence this entirely by chance meeting is (as if they aren't all keenly aware that this is a blatant set up). Maya waits for Kendall to take one of the other empty seats, even though, deep down, she knows that was never going to happen.

"Will you look at the time?" Kendall suddenly exclaims, her eyes on her bare wrist as if her skin possesses the power to tell time. "I completely forgot that I had somewhere to be. I'm so sorry, Maya. I really wanted to have a chance to chat, but I'm sure Lucas won't mind keeping you company for a while, would you? See? Kismet. All's well that ends well. I'll see you back in our room, later, of course, after my thing. You too have fun."

Maya is left staring open mouthed at her roommate's back as Kendall departs the coffee shop. Once Kendall is out of sight, Maya twists back around in her chair, closes her eyes and shakes her head. How had she not seen this coming? Is it that she's not yet fully attuned to Kendall's sneaky nature? It must be something, because Maya has prided herself on picking up on Riley's schemes from conception. It doesn't matter how good at subterfuge Riley becomes, Maya can always see through it. She thought she had the same transparency with Kendall, but, she sees now that she was wrong. Or, her own secret has created a blind spot (a Lucas sized blind spot), and her head has become just clouded enough that things are slipping by unnoticed. She needs to get a handle on this before she proves Riley right.

"I wasn't in on this," Lucas says and spins his own coffee cup in his hands. His features are scrunched; he's bracing himself for some overheated reaction from her, but she's not going to give him one (the Maya that has known him for years might have rolled her eyes, and "ha-hurred" in his face, but the Maya that's only just getting to know him believes this without hesitation. The other Maya would believe him too, but that wouldn't stop her from teasing him relentlessly over it anyway. She's making a choice here).

"Done deal," Maya mutters.

Lucas frowns, "What?"

Maya looks up at him and smiles. "Something Kendall said. I think we're gonna be seeing a lot more of each other. You think you're up for it?"

Lucas smiles back and nods, "I was already counting on it."

"Me too," Maya says and hides her growing grin behind her coffee.

This whole thing is ill advised—she knows it, he knows it—but even if this is a train wreck waiting to happen, what's stopping them from having a little fun in the meantime?

.

.

.

(the answer? _Nothing_ ).


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Here's chapter four. I'm sorry it took so long. I've been working the longest days which make for the longest weeks and the longest months. I finally found some time to get some typing in. Also, as soon as this story is complete I have a few more multi-chaps on their way that are in various stages of completion. So, hopefully I can get some stuff out to make up for the extended absences. Anyway, enjoy! Please leave me a review to let me know what you think about this next chapter! Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Four**

"Do you think we could go somewhere else?" Lucas asks, after their coffees have been drained to the last dribbling sips at the bottoms of their cups and they've spent at least a good ten minutes with only the sounds of the coffee shop employees and other guests between them.

"Yes," Maya agrees, already starting to stand. "Please."

They dump their trash on the way out of the coffee shop and then she is following Lucas out into the day. She doesn't know where he's leading her (or where any of this is going. Honestly, she hadn't thought much farther than about halfway through the unexpected coffee date, which was probably why the second half had wallowed in the silence between them. But, she trusts Lucas. She might have started this, but she's just as happy to follow his lead for a little while). After a few minutes of keeping pace beside Lucas on the sidewalk, his hand sort of drifts across the short distance between them and catches hers. Any uncertainty that might have been brewing within her is snuffed out by his fingers lacing between hers. It's so casual, such a natural, fluid, single motion, and just like that they're holding hands and walking down a New York City street. It grounds her and they could be going anywhere, but she knows she'll be okay so long as his hand stays in hers. (Part of her wants to tease him over how "smooth" a move that was, but that part of her belongs a little too much to the Maya that knows all of Lucas's greatest and worst qualities from long earned experience, so she quiets that part of herself until it's a nearly inaudible whisper. The Maya that is just learning this Lucas doesn't want to disturb or otherwise ruin this moment because she wants to memorize the feel of his hand in hers, the delicate weight of it, the comforting warmth, the gentle caress of his fingertips. She commits it to memory and stores it for safekeeping in the deepest, untouchable parts of her mind). After a while, it's clear that Lucas doesn't really have a destination in mind. He has them wandering a little aimlessly and Maya doesn't mind at all. In fact, she kind of likes this. They've never had _this_ before (for all the years they've known each other, everything they've done has had an underlying purpose motivating them. Some lesson to be learned. Some challenge to be completed. Someone else's hand has always been guiding their every move. There hasn't been a step that they've taken that was only theirs. Maya realizes this now, and wonders how she had never seen it before. How had she missed that?). She doesn't want this to end, so she keeps putting one foot in front of the other, and Lucas does the same.

"So," Lucas breaks the silence after they've practically circled a block. "I talked to Farkle—"

"Oh, I know," Maya says.

Lucas grimaces. "Riley?"

"Yep," Maya pops the word out. Even in her still lingering frustration at her best friend, those three letters seem to still hold affection for the well-intentioned goofball.

"I'm sorry," Lucas says. "I just needed a little _perspective_."

Maya shrugs. They turn a corner and walk a little farther before she speaks a response (she hopes the hesitation comes off as mulling over and not as apprehension over the potential answer to the question she poses). "And did Farkle provide you with the necessary perspective?"

"No," Lucas answers simply. "Did Riley?"

"Not in the slightest," Maya laughs. " _But_ , I think I found it anyway."

Maya only catches Lucas's smile because she's studying him closely as she waits for his response.

"Me too."

"And?" Maya prompts.

"We're here," Lucas says.

Maybe that answer shouldn't be enough but, somehow, it's exactly what Maya needs to hear (because, isn't _that_ the whole point of this? If they hadn't pretended at that party, all of this would be about the past. And their past as defined by Riley, Farkle and the others had been all about the future. It's only now, under these circumstances, bizarre as they are, that they're actually able to focus only on the present. It's scary, maybe, because it's new and unknown, unexpected, unplanned and thus undefined, but that's what is so exhilarating about it too). Maya is here in this moment with Lucas and that's all the perspective she needs to move forward one step at a time.

For maybe the first time in her life (at least the life that began the first time she crawled into the Bay Window), Maya doesn't have Riley's voice in her head (or even Kendall's for that matter, which has unfortunately also become a staple in the past month). No, in this moment, the only voice in Maya's head is her own. Maybe it has its reservations, but the best part is that little voice of hers (that sometimes gets drowned out by, the other more persistent conflicting voices, gets stamped down by the Riley toned conscience, or gets worn out by the constant barrage of Kendall's animated narration) gets the only, and _final_ , say this time. It's her own voice that she lets guide her. She honestly can't remember the last time she did that.

Eventually, their walk draws to a close. Lucas stops making random turns and leads them back to the coffee shop they had met at. They linger outside the entrance. It's time to part ways, but finding the appropriate send off seems to be troubling both of them. Lucas is just watching her (and once again Maya is possessed by the desire to read his mind, because she wants to know what he sees when he looks at her like that, but she doesn't yet have the courage to just ask him straight out). He reaches up to brush some of her hair away from her face, and his fingers linger, trailing down her cheek. (Part of her thinks that if it were some other guy, at this point, she would just kiss him, if only to end the suspense, but its not some random guy. It's Lucas. With or without their history, this can't be it. It's not _the_ moment. And honestly, she never would have let a random guy touch her like this, so…special circumstances). The sun shifts between clouds and a glare of it flickers off a window out of the corner of Maya's eye; it reminds her of the flicker of firelight and she realizes they could stand just like this forever if she doesn't do _something_. So, she does the first thing that comes to mind and goes with it.

Maya tips herself onto her toes and wraps her arms around Lucas in a tight hug. His arms wrap around her middle and lift her into it. It giver her just enough leverage to tuck her face into the crook of his neck. She settles into the embrace with a sigh.

"It was good to see you, Lucas," Maya keeps her voice low, speaking only to him, just near his ear (not that there's anyone close enough to overhear anyway, but this feels important). "Even if it wasn't on purpose."

"Yeah," Lucas breathes. His hands will not still on her back, and each, possibly unintentional stroke threatens to send shivers down her spine. It's unfair that a hug ( _just_ a hug, darn it) is enough to garner this reaction from her (she intends to ignore the melty feeling in her knees or the out of rhythm hitch of her heart, because she's trying to not draw too many conclusions this early out of the gate). "We should do this again sometime. _On purpose_."

Maya backs up just enough to look up into his eyes. "Definitely. And without Kendall."

"No Kendall," Lucas agrees. "Just us."

"You've got yourself a d—" Maya stammers and regroups. "D- _deal_."

Lucas smiles that smile that is more like a smirk (and Maya just _knows_ that he knows that that wasn't the d-word that was originally going to leave her mouth. The thing is, it occurred to her, as soon as _that_ d-word arrived at her lips, that she didn't know how serious it was meant to be. Did she mean for it to be taken as it is, or as a joke? Could there ever be any humor in it? Did she _want_ humor in it? With so many of her own conflicting thoughts, it's easier for her to just choose a less loaded word. Only, the stuttering mess she makes of it is so obvious that, impossibly, Lucas just knows. And that somehow doesn't manage to make things awkward even though it should. So, she can count that as a success, right?).

"You know where to find me," Maya says.

Lucas nods. "I do."

"Okay," Maya smiles and takes a few steps away. "I'll see you, Lucas."

"See you, Maya."

The walk back to her dorm alone is a thousand times easier than the weighed down trudge that was the trip to the coffee shop. Maya has been able to shed the lingering frustration with Riley's attempted interference, mostly because it has slipped from her mind almost entirely. Maya is just content (in fact, _so_ content that her unfailing smile may have startled a few strangers she passed on her way to her dorm. _So_ content that she doesn't care if those people think she's crazy. She can't remember the last time she felt this _good_ , at least not without all of her friends around her when she walks into her dorm and finds Kendall exactly where she thought she'd find her roommate. Maya doesn't greet Kendall; she just rolls herself onto her bed, turning her still present smile toward the ceiling. Every breath feels like a pleased sigh and she really wants to extend this moment as long as she can.

Kendall isn't to be ignored though (she's like Riley like that). Maya is replaying her time with Lucas, and only about halfway through, when Kendall bounces onto her bed beside her. It takes some shoving and wiggling but Maya finally rolls her eyes and concedes to the presence. Maya shifts to make room for the intruder on the too small bed. This feels familiar. This time last year, this would have been Maya and Riley snuggling, ready to gossip about whatever drama worthy thing had happened in their lives (Maya almost wishes she could have this moment with Riley now, but she also knows that she probably never could have had this with Riley, not about Lucas).

"So…" Kendall draws out the word, so many o's tacked on the end that they spin around Maya's head. "How was coffee with Lucas?"

"How was your _thing_?" Maya counters.

Kendall chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Your attempts at deflection will be in vain."

"Deflection? Me?" Maya says. "Ha."

Kendall's fingers reach in to tickle Maya's sides and Maya squirms away but finds she has nowhere to go. "Come on, Maya. I want details. Don't be stingy."

"There's nothing to say, Kendall," Maya says. "It was coffee and a walk. That's all."

"So, you went on a 'walk,' huh?" Kendall replies.

"Why does it sound like you're putting walk in air quotes? We went on an actual walk. You know, one foot in front of the other? Gets you from one place to another, sometimes in the company of another person?" Maya says. "No air quotes necessary."

"Uh-huh," Kendall says. " _Sure_. After the night you two had, y'all just went on an entirely innocent walk. I believe you. One hundred and ten percent. _Obviously_."

"First of all, you don't _know_ what kind of night we had together. You _assumed_ ," Maya points out (even though she knows she's just as guilty of _letting_ Kendall assume exactly what she assumed, because she had no other way to explain what actually did happen. It's probably a mistake to call Kendall out on it now, because this will only open her up for Kendall to ask what actually happened then. It would be easier to let Kendall believe she knew what she was talking about, but Maya doesn't want everything Kendall believes about Lucas and her to be a lie. It gets complicated when she wonders why. As if it isn't already complicated enough).

"Oh, I think I do," Kendall pokes Maya this time.

Somehow the tone is enough to bring Maya to laugh. "Oh, you do, huh?"

"Yes, in fact, I know I do," Kendall says. "And I'll tell you why. Even though you've kept your lips zipped—which really is no way to treat your roomie, especially when I tell you all the sordid details of my affairs—and shush," Kendall puts a finger to Maya's when they open to speak up. "—I don't care if you don't _want_ to know, I tell you anyway, because that's what I do, I overshare, and who else am going to gab to but you, Miss Hart? So, at the very least you should give me _something_ to go on, but if you won't then I'll fill in the blanks and you can't do anything about that— _so_ , despite your silence, as unending as it is, there are conclusions I can draw. And I've concluded that you _must have_ had a good night because if you hadn't a, he wouldn't have been trying to sneak out of here the next morning, b, you would have shut me down when I basically announced that I was going to set you two up again, c, you would have walked out when you saw him in the coffee shop, you wouldn't have stuck around for a walk, air quotes or no air quotes, and d through z, the look on your face when you walked in just now, that alone, that friggin' seals it, huh, because that was the very, and I mean, _very_ first time you've looked _that_ happy since I met you and that, doll, is because of Lucas. Believe me, Maya, I—"

"—know these things," Maya finishes for her. " _I know_."

"Then why do you have to question me, girlie?" Kendall huffs, but this time Maya is able to dodge her poking finger.

"I like listening to you ramble," Maya says. "There's always something good somewhere in the middle."

"I see how it is," Kendall rolls away and then hops off Maya's bed to return to her own. "Eventually, I'm gonna work my magic on you and you'll be unable to resist telling me everything."

Maya laughs and props herself up so she can watch Kendall curl up across the room. "That so?"

Kendall shrugs a shoulder and then smirks over at Maya. "Or I'll just ask Lucas next time we're in class together."

"You do that," Maya says and rolls onto her back again to star up at the ceiling. "Chances are he'll be more tight lipped about it than I am."

"Can't blame a girl for trying."

"And trying, and trying, and trying…"

Kendall mock gasps. "It's like you see into my soul, Maya Hart."

"No wonder I've just gotten this urge to cover my eyes," Maya says and both girls fill the small room with their laughter.

Maya seems to be finding so many of the things she had been missing (some she hadn't even been aware that she was missing). Maybe she should feel guilty that she's retrieving these things without so many of the things that had defined her before, but she just can't seem to make herself feel anything but _good_ (maybe _that_ will make her feel even guiltier in the long run, but she will deal with that later).

…

After that, it's all about finding a rhythm. Maya and Lucas have to find the right balance (between who they were before and who they are now, or who they're going to be; between what they already know about each other and what they are only now learning about each other; between what everyone else knows and what they've chosen to keep to themselves). It's their time to see how they fit into each other's' lives, how they fill in new spaces for each other (spaces that weren't there before or at least not ones they fit into for each other before). It probably should have been harder, but the two of them adapt to each other with unexpected ease. Soon enough they've taken up so much of each other's lives that it seems like it would be impossible to untangle the two. A return to a time when they lived separately is both out of the question and undesirable.

It starts out as simple things: meeting up between classes, grabbing coffee now and again, lunch a few times (sometimes a quick bite before one of them has to be somewhere else, sometimes longer affairs when they have no other commitments), and a lot of the time studying together (often in the library or whatever coffee shop they're enjoying that day, they avoid anywhere their high school selves frequented and anywhere Kendall might be present, which rules out Maya's dorm). They steer clear of any location or activity that might be misconstrued as anything more than what it is, which is two people discovering each other (even if, for them, it's _re_ -discovering and they're the only two that know that).

The best part is that it boils down to mostly talking. It's a wonder that they've never gotten around to this before, but the talking, the sharing of themselves, is the one thing they've never had before (yes, Maya does realize that the reason they haven't done the talking thing before was because talking was Lucas and Riley's thing. Maya hadn't been allowed to encroach upon that. It was always easier for her to stay in the lines that were drawn for her. Now that those lines have been erased and she's free to roam the full landscape of a connection with Lucas, she feels comfortable with talking over tangling, although she doesn't mind the occasional tangle, for old times' sake). Sometimes they talk about the past, or their friends, but with their new dynamic those times are oddly uncomplicated. They can mention Zay, or Farkle, or even Riley in passing without them being loaded subjects (something tells Maya that eventually there will come a time when they'll _have_ to have a loaded conversation about these things and people they've long shared, but not yet). Mostly though they talk about each other, themselves, and the wonderful _now_ they're living.

Having Lucas around again makes bearing the missing people in her life easier (there was a time right after the arrival of the Berkeley letter when Maya thought some terrible thoughts about what it was going to be like to be without her important people. She thought she had accepted it, like a perpetually single woman begrudgingly accepting that she's going to be the spinster cat lady, after all, but she realized she had not accepted it at all when she arrived at NYU. She was experiencing all these changes and supposedly great experiences, but all of her focus was on this just under the surface low key resentment that all of her usual lifelines weren't there to share them with her. She's over that now, thankfully, because she's got Lucas to hang onto now. He's no replacement for the others, but she's not floundering anymore. She can subsist on Skype calls, phone conversations, and texts from everyone else, so long as Lucas is there otherwise). But it also makes fitting one of those people back in, maybe, just a little bit harder too. It makes things with Riley a little complicated and Maya is actively trying to avoid figuring out _why_ (see, when Maya and Riley shared the City, took it on arm in arm, they shared everything. When Riley needed a push, Maya gave it. When Maya needed to be dragged back, Riley needed her in. They had a give and take. It was cherished. They both relied upon it). While it is probably good for both of them to lose some of that co-dependency that Maya was unable to recognize in her best friend's absence, they've struggled to find a dynamic in her best friend's absence, they've struggled to find a dynamic to substitute for it—especially since this whole Lucas dilemma came up. Because, as it stands, Riley still disapproves and any mention of Lucas is an opportunity for Riley to remind Maya of that (it's like eating a doughnut in front of someone on a diet. She's not on a diet, she enjoys a healthy helping of sugar coated deliciousness when she pleases, and she certainly doesn't want to be told about the absurd number of calories she's currently consuming, but that person is definitely going to tell her anyway. It's like Lucas is that doughnut, and any time she eats him in front of Riley, she runs the risk of being told how bad he is for her when she would rather just savor his taste. And, _that_ metaphor took an unexpected turn). Maya _can't_ talk to Riley about Lucas and he's grown to take up so much of her life currently that it leaves her with little to talk to Riley about, which makes her feel bad (but not bad enough to do anything about it…yet). At the moment, Maya is only concerned with seeing where all this takes her, until then she knows Riley can get all her news through Farkle and whatever he gets from Lucas. There are other things Maya has to get settled on before she can deal with anything on the Riley front, and those things are between Maya and Lucas alone (no matter who might come prying).

…

"So, you and Lucas have been spending a lot of time together the past few weeks," Kendall says. She's laid out on her stomach on her bed, feet kicked up and swinging in the air, as she works on an essay. Her eyes never leave the laptop screen propped in front of her, but she's arrested progress on her assignment to pester Maya instead.

Maya had been hoping for anything to distract her from the chapter reading from the heavy textbook nestled in her lap, but this is not what she had in mind. She sighs and closes her textbook. But it's better than nothing.

"Yeah," Maya says. "Isn't that what you wanted? You were looking for someone to get me out of your hair, weren't you?"

"Okay, okay," Kendall pushes the laptop out of the way and rolls over to face Maya's bed. "I'll admit, when we first met, I could, like, _smell_ the lonely on you. It was vaguely depressing—which was _really_ depressing because the rest of you was so exciting and I knew we could be the, like, kick ass roomies we are now if you could just shake off whatever gloom had fallen over you. So, yeah, I hoped Lucas could get you out of your lonely funk. I thought, win, win. Best case scenario, he sticks around for keeps. And, you know, alternatively, not ideal but acceptable, at the absolute very least, he could be a pick me up hookup."

"Lucas isn't that type," Maya says (It doesn't matter if she's known him years or weeks, that's something she _knows_ about Lucas).

"I had a feeling he wouldn't be," Kendall agrees. "He definitely seems like a best-case scenario kind of guy. And, I mean, you're out with him all the time, so I figure," she shrugs, even as a smirk flashes across her lips. Maya doesn't expect the blush that accompanies the flood of thoughts about her recent encounters with Lucas, but the reaction is enough to spur Kendall on. "So, you two _are_ dating, then."

"No," Maya shakes her head. She grapples with an appropriate word for what she and Lucas _have_ been doing (they haven't done anything much more than that hug outside the coffeeshop, but on a scale of one to ten their intimacy has hovered at about an eight. But the more that needle tilts toward ten, the farther off the charts their levels of unresolved tension skyrockets. They are beyond platonic, but they haven't quite landed anywhere else. They're in limbo). "We're _exploring_."

"Ooh, that sounds interesting," Kendall waggles her eyebrows.

Maya throws her pillow at Kendall, nailing her in the face just hard enough that she tips back to fall flat on her back. Maya rolls her eyes as they both laugh. "Not like _that_ , Gutter Ball. We're getting to know each other."

"But it's going somewhere?" Kendall picks Maya's pillow up off her head to look over at Maya when she asks the question.

"I think so. Maybe," Maya says.

A phone chime interrupts them as Maya gets a text. 'My class got cancelled. You free for a little adventure? -L' She smiles at Lucas's invitation and quickly sends him a response.

Kendall clocks the instantaneous grin and looks smug as she says, "That looks more like a yes to me."

" _Yes_ , then," Maya replies, already on her feet to get ready, her smiled unfading. "It's going somewhere. I just don't know where yet."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Here's chapter five, only a couple more to go after this. There are some subtle references to Ski Lodge, although the events of those episodes did not occur in this universe. It's just a sort of nod to the Maya she might have been back in high school, thoughts she might have had about life and love that have evolved since then. Anyway, enjoy! Please drop a review to let me know what you thought! Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Five**

"Where are you taking me?" Maya asks.

Maya thought she knew the city inside and out, but the longer she follows after Lucas with no familiar destination in sight, the more lost she feels (she's just glad she hadn't let Kendall talk her into the heels and flashy outfit her roommate had suggested when she realized Maya was heading out to meet Lucas. As a start, that kind of flaunting just isn't Maya, not the way it is one hundred percent Kendall, and at this point the window to make _that_ sort of impression on Lucas has closed, both historically and in their recent developments. Their reintroduction at that party is as close as they're going to get on that front and Maya's fine with that. In fact, the whole pleasure of her time with Lucas now is that she doesn't have to try so hard—and maybe that's been a part of their relationship for far longer. He has always been all about allowing her to be exactly who she is, even when other's have struggled to do the same. And honestly, she couldn't have said what Lucas had in mind when he said, "adventure"—it could have been, quite literally, anything—and she's still trying to sort that out as she follows Lucas down yet another unfamiliar sidewalk). Lucas glances back and there's a "we'll see" scribbled all over the grin he flashes her. His hand reaches out to take hers and he pulls her closer into step with him. It's not an answer, but, really, what can she do when he fixes her with a sweet smile like that? It isn't until they slow to a stop at their destination (at least she assumes it's where they're going, she can't be entirely sure yet) that he speaks up.

"Turns out finding a place that doesn't hold some significance to the us from before or anyone else we know is far more difficult than I thought it would be," Lucas says.

Maya raises an eyebrow as she looks up at him. "It's a big city, Lucas."

"Yes, but I wanted a corner of it that would be just for us," Lucas replies.

A smile works itself slowly across Maya's lips and she looks again at where Lucas has led her. The quaint little park nestled into the busy block is new to her, to them, and as he said, it is now the little corner of the world that is just for them. It's only now, when he is offering it to her that she realizes this is just what she needed. It would be so easy to sit around Topanga's or wander around their old haunts (whether as their old selves or trying to see them through new eyes), but this is so much better. It opens up a whole array of new possibilities.

Maya lets Lucas guide her to a quiet, grassy corner of the park, just past the semi-populated playground. From his bag, he produces a blanket and the makings of a decent picnic. With the spread laid out, they settle in beside each other on their claimed patch of grass. They are quiet for a while as they soak in their surroundings and start to dig into their picnic. It creeps up on her, but after a few minutes it blossoms around her that this is a moment she has been longing for without even realizing it has been a desire held within her. This is the perfect adventure, that she never knew she wanted, that she never would have set out on without Lucas, without the start they made when they stumbled upon this path this semester. She never would have believed she would find herself here, but here she is and it's truly amazing. She is ready to savor it for every second she can exploit it for.

When Maya has had her fill of the picnic fare, she finds that a full belly and a peaceful atmosphere has only served to make her comfortably sleepy. She stretches her body, letting all her muscles pull in pleasurable release. She has her eyes closed and a yawn just waiting at the base of her throat. She barely hears Lucas's breathy laugh, but she does. She peeks open one eye to catch him watching her. His gaze is intense, but only in how it is unwavering, even after she has caught him looking. Maya smiles and continues to stare back at him from her half lidded eyes.

"What?" Maya finally asks.

"You're really enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Lucas returns. He lowers himself to lay down flat on his back, propping up his head with his arms crossed behind it. His eyes never leave her, even as he does. "I did pretty good, huh?"

"Only one thing could have made this better," Maya says with her voice low as she leans over him.

"What's that?" Lucas raises an eyebrow.

Maya grins, "Tacos."

"Tacos aren't exactly a picnic food."

"Anything is a picnic food if you eat it while sitting on the ground."

Maya rolls over so she is laying down too, propping her head and shoulders up on Lucas's stomach and stretching her legs out perpendicularly from his body. She lets out a slow, easy breath as she relaxes against him. She could fall asleep just like this to the rise and fall of his chest beneath her. With her eyes closed and her mind to drifting, Maya smiles lazily.

"You did good, Lucas."

"I wasn't sure if it would be enough of an adventure for you," Lucas says. He has lowered his voice and it is extra soothing given her contented state (she's always liked his voice, but right now it has just enough of that low, rumble and huskiness to it that it makes her want to curl up in a ball while he spouts whatever random nonsense necessary to keep him talking).

It takes what little energy she has to pop open one eye and turn her head just enough so she can get an angle on his face to her right. "I don't think there is such a thing as not enough when it comes to you and me."

Maya lulls her head back so she's staring up at the sky again. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rethinks them. She meant them, of course, because she honestly believes that they could sit and do absolutely nothing together, like they basically are now, and it would be enough (in other words, she has grown up and matured enough that she knows adventure doesn't necessarily involve espionage, car chases, explosions, or anything that didn't belong outside of a cheesy action flick). _But_ , there was one thing that wasn't enough when it came to Lucas and Maya (and that was _every_ version of Lucas and Maya, to be absolutely clear). She isn't sure how to say _that_ though.

Lucas doesn't say anything in response to her mostly true declaration, but he does reach over one hand to start stroking his fingers through her hair. At his first touch, Maya nearly moans at the sensation. She wasn't expecting it, it's so gentle and reassuring, and it feels wonderful. It also makes her even more aware of that "not enough" she was just thinking about. As she melts into the fantastic, lazy rhythm of his fingers massaging her scalp and running through her hair, she can't help but wonder where _this_ has been all these years. They've always been a tactile pair (she couldn't even begin to quantify how many times she has had her hands on Lucas in some manner over the time they've known each other, or vice versa, under any number of circumstances). But somehow, this simple act feels more intimate than anything she's experienced with Lucas or otherwise. Maybe it's not that it's a new thing between them. Maybe it's that she's finally allowing herself to feel it. Honestly, there is _so much_ she hasn't allowed herself since she stood on a subway train and caught her first glimpse of him across the way.

The subway. That's something Maya has been thinking about a lot lately. For a long time , that moment had been an afterthought (just one of their stories, and not even one of the ones they told that often. There are so many others that are funnier, more important, just more, that it gets crowded out sometimes. But it is important, _very_ important, she's starting to realize). There has been a lot of talk about the how and why of them—and the thing at the root of it all is that moment and the precedent it set.

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you and I had been alone on the subway back in middle school?" Maya voices the question her sudden thoughts have poised. When Lucas doesn't answer right away, she goes on with her own response. "Because I do. Actually, sometimes I wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn't been curious enough to follow that little song through that open window, if I had never known Riley.'

Maya has never admitted that before (maybe not even to herself), but here she is laying it all out for Lucas. He still doesn't say anything, but his fingers are still playing through her hair the same, so she takes that as a good sign and continues.

"I know I owe a lot of myself to Riley and the influence that she has on me. But I also know that her influence came with expectations and I've spent years deferring to those expectations. I think we both have. We've been the versions of ourselves that she wanted us to be, until _now_."

This whole thing with Lucas has been an experiment in chemistry, of the dynamics of relationships variety. Farkle would say that in every experiment there is a variable. A variable that's presence or absence has a direct effect on the outcome of the experiment (he would spew on about independent and dependent and a whole lot of other science-y stuff Maya has no time for at the moment, because she's done it. She's finally put a label on the variable in this thing between Lucas and her). The variable here (the thing that has held them back from each other, the thing that's presence has altered the course of where they could have, maybe should have gone, the thing that stopped being an issue when they let their shared pasts slide away) is _Riley_.

Maya breathes a humorless laugh. "That's it, isn't it? Before this, our worlds revolved around her and with her not here, we were able to spin into each other's gravity." She sits up and twists just enough that she is leaning over Lucas's face and their eyes can meet. His hand falls away from her hair as she pulls out of his reach and her whole body shivers at the loss (she hopes he finds a reason to do it again. It and maybe more, maybe much, much more). "I think we could have had this a long time ago if it wasn't for Riley."

One corner of Lucas's lips perks upward. "You're not _wrong_ , but—"

"But," Maya cuts him off. "I never would have been on the subway if it wasn't for Riley. I would have been at an entirely different school, with different friends, different teachers, different boys, and probably not a single cowboy."

Lucas can't help but let out a short snort of a laugh. It's brief though and he sobers rather quickly, to get back in line with the appropriate level of seriousness this conversation requires. Maya still has more to say, so he lets her go on without any more of a response to her light jab. This is where all their selves line up and where they go from here is too important to avoid any longer (and that's the thing. They've been avoiding this for a long time by ignoring things between them that should have been obvious, and maybe were, but they— _she_ —were too busy stepping back, stepping away, hiding things deep down where they couldn't complicate for her, for Lucas, or for Riley. But this is complicated, whether they like it or not, and it's time to face it head on. These past few weeks of simplicity have been half a fantasy. If she wants to keep any of it for herself in any kind of lasting way, then she has to make it grounded, make it real. This is the only way to do that). It's time to put it all on the line.

"The truth is, we needed Riley and we'll always need Riley in our lives," Maya says. "You can't deny that she's vital to both of us in some ways, different ways, the little dork-a-muffin. But if anything is clear from these last few months is that we have to learn to be ourselves without her and you and me, in particular, have to learn how to live without her between us. That's what this has been; that's what this _is_. Us without her."

Maya isn't sure how to feel about this realization. Yes, she has been adapting (if you could call aggressively moving forward and trying—and _mostly_ succeeding—to pretend that everything isn't five thousand percent different, _adapting_ ) to the new life college has brought her. She has never pictured a life that didn't feature her best friend prominently. She has always imagined that their friendship would be the most important relationship of her life. And she still feels that way to some extent. But since this thing with Lucas started, it's a feeling that she has started to step away from, to push it down where it can't complicate things any further. She's conflicted. She doesn't want to live in a world without Riley, but she wants to live in this one just a little longer.

"Is it," Maya breathes in deep and tries to get the words out a second time. "Is it wrong that I like _this_ us better?"

Lucas meets her gaze full on for a few quiet seconds without saying anything. Maya can't possibly have any idea of what he's thinking (she's not even sure that she wants to know. This thing they have been doing has been fun so far, but what she has just suggested takes it further than they've ever been before. How could she predict if he wants to go there with her? And if he doesn't, what would _that_ mean for them, or for her?). When the quiet sound of no response starts to drag on too long, Maya begins to pull away (run, like she's learned to do in situations like this. Run, her mind screams out, and she almost does it). Before she can get even an inch further away, Lucas sits up and catches her by the arm. Maya turns back to meet his eyes, even though she can feel the heat rising in her face to match the flair of shame in the pit of her stomach as she anticipates what he'll say. Lucas stares straight into her eyes, steady and strong.

"Do you want to take this somewhere more private?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Don't hate me, I know this is super late coming, but life has been ridiculously hectic on my end. There's one more chapter after this to tie up the loose ends, but this this is the main event. I'll hopefully be able to get the next chapter out and then I have a few different GMW multi-chap stories in the pipeline. I know the audience for it is dwindling, but there's something about these characters that won't let go. So, enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Six**

This time, when Maya follows Lucas, she doesn't ask where he's taking her (for a few reasons. One being that her head is so full of swirling thoughts that she's almost certain that if she opens her mouth that some of them are going to come spilling out, and she's not sure how much of them she wants to share yet. Another being that this feels different, serious. On the way to their adventure, everything had been light and airy. It left room to be playful. This isn't exactly heavier, just different. It feels like it deserves her silence). Besides, she's pretty sure she knows where he's leading her this time. In all the time they've been spending together recently, Maya hasn't been to Lucas's dorm, but it seems like that's where they're heading. If he's looking for privacy, that's probably their best option (she doesn't know the habits of his roommate, but her dorm will probably be fully occupied by Kendall and even if, by chance, it is empty, she doesn't want to deal with any of the consequences of being caught with him there if Kendall returns. She doesn't need any assumptions or questions from her roommate when she has enough question marks of her own to deal with). It might have been the better option that first night too and she wonders how this could have gone differently if they had gone back there instead of her room, where Kendall would see her sending Lucas home in the morning after the most innocent night Maya had ever spent with a member of the opposite sex. She wonders a lot of things as she stands outside his door with him (like how that night was always going to turn out innocent, but this, for how little has happened between them objectively, is already far from that).

Lucas unlocks the door and gestures her inside. She takes a second for a last deep breath before she crosses the threshold. She picks out his side of the room easily, because it is a physical time line of their friendship. The bulletin board over his desk is full of pictures of all their friends ranging from middle school to the past summer before they all separated. It seems right that Lucas has personalized his space to the nth degree while Maya's room could belong to _literally_ anyone. As she stares at the array of Riley, Farkle, and Zay's smiling faces, she realizes that while they may have pretended to be strangers outside of their private spaces, when Lucas comes home he has a strong reminder that they are no such thing surrounding him because there are far more pictures of her and Lucas than she ever would have expected him to possess let alone _display_. Lucas has kept them— _her_ —present, while Maya has kept them at the distance they've put between them. It's unsurprising, this difference (they've always been that different, there was never a time when people didn't see that very clearly). It's that difference that has always worked for them, because it makes their few commonalities so vital and significant and because it allows them to do for each other what they can't always do for themselves. Now, in this thing they're doing, Lucas has brought her back and she's helping him let go.

Maya picks one of the pictures off the board. It's the one perfectly at the center. The one that draws the eye in first, before any of the others. It's of her and Lucas from their high school graduation. It's only a few months ago, but it could have been a century ago for how far away it feels (it was always so astounding the way time was so damn relative). The picture was never supposed to exist. It had started with Lucas posing with Riley for Farkle. It was just before Maya rejoined them after the ceremony and unbeknownst to the intended subjects of the photo, she was going to announce her arrival by jumping straight onto Lucas's back, leaving them both grinning and laughing as she screamed out, "We did it, Huckleberry!" Farkle never took the picture of Riley and Lucas, but he did snap this close up of Maya perched on Lucas's back with her arms tight around him. She has the same picture framed in her room at her Mom's, where it was left with anything more personal than her clothes and other necessities. She loves this picture and it's not until this second that she really understands that on a conscious level. And it seems that maybe Lucas feels the same way—about the picture, that is.

Maya turns around and holds the picture out for Lucas to see. He smiles softly on sight (she takes that as a good sign. At this point, she'll take anything short of him kicking her out of his room as a good sign). Once she's sure he knows which picture it is, she pulls it back to look at it herself again. She smiles at it too.

"I guess _your_ roommate never would have had a problem recognizing _me_ as part of your former life."

"Yeah," Lucas nods. "Good thing I never thought to try to hook him up with Kendall, she would have found us out."

"Right," Maya takes a deep breath and returns the picture to its place on the bulletin board.

"Also, his girlfriend probably would have had a problem with that," Lucas continues. (While Maya is taking in her breath, he seems to be losing his as more words spill out in piles between them). "Not that she would be his type anyway. Although, that's the strange thing about Kendall—"

Maya has lost interest in the pictures now and lets herself focus all her attention back on Lucas. Now seems the perfect time to, because between his words of no consequence, he is letting quite a lot slip through unspoken.

"—I can't tell if she's nobody's type or everybody's type," Lucas rambles, his eyes anywhere but on Maya or any of the various traces of Maya scattered across the picture. "She's definitely not my type. I can say that—"

"You're nervous," Maya says. She's closed in on him, reducing the space between them, and she runs a hand down his chest. She pauses briefly to feel the vigorous pounding of his heart. She smirks up at him. "I take it you're not the type to invite a girl into your bed after so short a time of knowing her."

"First of all," Lucas finally sucks in a much needed breath, "I never said anything about my bed," he steals her words from before with ease and goes on. He takes her by the arms and, _now,_ he meets her eyes straight on in such a way that she knows he's not back down this time. "And second, _Maya_ , I don't want to play anymore."

Everything in her wants this to be real, whatever it is, but it can't be real if it's based in a lie. Their only choice is to stop playing, because the longer they let this charade go on the harder it will be to drop it and the more likely it will be that they'll ruin both versions of them to do it. Maya just doesn't want to go back to the way things were (because, even though she's pretending to not be her, she's never felt more like herself than in this pseudo reality they've created. That shouldn't make sense, yet it does, because the real her, or what she thought was the real her is only part of her. _This_ is who she is when she lets all of herself out into the open, at least for Lucas's eyes so far). She wants to know that things will have changed, because she knows she can't forget the things she's felt and what these moments she's collected have meant to her.

"Do you think we can do this if we stop playing?" Maya asks.

"I think this is inevitable," Lucas says. "I think it's always been inevitable. We've done a lot to delay it, whether it's because of the universe, or the people around us, or Riley, but that doesn't change the path we're on. It started on the subway and it brought us here. We're still going to be here. I'm only asking for your permission to acknowledge every single step of the journey."

"Okay," Maya takes a deep breath and when she releases it, she lets everything she's never said come out with it. She moves (just to put a little space between them. They need it, because soon it will be filled up with all she has to say) and sits down on the edge of his bed, then she begins at the beginning. "The first time I met you. The _real_ first time. If I could have chosen to have you for myself, I would have. But I saw Riley's face when she saw you and I knew the best I could ask for was to share you and if I wasn't so lucky, I would end up never having any of you. It wasn't the first time I had a revelation like that. It was pretty commonplace by then, something I accepted to have Riley in my life. Since we were kids, there was basically nothing in my life that was just mine. Everything I had was also Riley's. My school was Riley's school, my teachers were Riley's teachers, my friends were Riley's friends. My Farkle was Riley's Farkle. And that made sense, because I came into our friendship with empty hands. Everything I had was hers first. It was Riley's family that became like family to me. It was _Riley's_ home that felt like home to me. You were just another thing on that list and for a long time I was okay with that," Maya looks up at Lucas with a half-smile and a shrug. "It took me that long time to realize that I was allowed to want something for myself, that to have something of my own wouldn't hurt Riley or our friendship—and if it did, then we weren't as strong as we always claimed to be. That was a lesson I learned late, and not altogether that long ago."

Lucas is listening intently as she goes on, but it seems he's not as interested in the space she's put between them, because at this point he comes to sit beside her on the bed. He leaves her enough room to not feel crowded, but he gives weight to his presence. Maya continues and tries not to be distracted by the fact that she can feel his warmth radiating across the gap between them (which is a silly thing to distract her when they've been closer, both before and after their reintroduction, but, then again, they are in new territory here as they try to bridge that before and after, so maybe she can't know what's going to affect her, or him, or them).

"Do you remember when we started to seriously think about college?" Maya asks. "Riley had all these ideas about where we could apply, where we could go, what the pros and cons would be for _us_. Because in her mind there wasn't a scenario where she and I didn't stay together. If I was going to college, I would be going with her. I suppose she probably _honestly_ thought that I would follow her wherever regardless. And I might have, I actually might have, if I hadn't figured out that whatever scenario she had in mind didn't include New York."

Maya's eyes drift to her lap and her fingers worry Lucas's comforter. These are things she's never spoken out loud to anyone, not Riley, and certainly not Lucas. These are things she had kept to herself because that was how she learned to handle things. It has always been easier to step back, to push aside what she thinks and how she feels, and to let everyone else lead the way. Now she has to learn how to say what's on her mind, what she really thinks, whatever that might be.

"It was fine for Riley to want that. I was so happy for Riley to want so much for herself, but I couldn't let her choose that for us. I couldn't let her choose that for _me_ ," Maya says and takes another breath before going on. "I knew that, growing up with so little that felt like home, there was no way I was going to leave the city that raised me, not even for Riley. That was the first choice I made for myself, but it wasn't really a choice at all. It was the illusion of choice, because I was always going to stay," Maya wrings her fingers, focusing her gaze on each tiny movement she makes. "And since then, despite having every chance to, I've avoided making those sort of choices. I've just been going through the motions—until _this_. It's why these past few weeks have been so wonderful, why I wanted them to last. I finally got to call something mine. I got to choose."

Lucas's hand brushes up her arm to her shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze, then carries on up her neck. His thumb strokes along her jawline. He takes a gentle hold on her, just enough to encourage her to look at him again (Maya can't tell if she's breathing; she's pretty sure she stopped entirely when he touched her. This moment is too charged, too intense, for him to be touching her with such purpose. But she certainly doesn't want him to _stop_ , not ever). She humors him, tilting her gaze just enough so that her eyes fell on his face. She _has_ seen him look at her like that before, but now she can admit that she likes it and wants more of it, because _now_ she can recognize what it is and what it means. He's pleading with her to be open and honest and she's going to give him exactly what he's asking for (because, for the first time, she feels like she's able to). Maya reaches up and closes a hand around Lucas's, pulling it away from her face (even though she feels the absence on her skin immediately and she wants the sensation back desperately). She laces her fingers through his and gives his hand a soft squeeze.

"Maya—" Lucas murmurs.

"You want to know our journey?" Maya starts soft, but grows more confident as she goes on. "Our journey was a series of moments that belonged to someone else. Moments that saw me letting someone else dictate who my true self was, moments that weren't mine, because I could never really be myself, not the way I needed to be, not the way it mattered. But that doesn't mean I didn't see it. It doesn't mean I didn't want it, because I did. Maybe I can only see now how much I wanted, but, God, I did," Maya signs and one corner of her mouth perks up in a lopsided smile. "You could have kissed me by a campfire, or on a rooftop, or at any point in between and I probably would have let you, even if nothing ever would have come of it because of Riley. I didn't have a choice, but there was never a time when a part of me didn't hope you would choose me."

Maya waits for Lucas to say something (she's ready to hear practically anything, because for a brief second she fears that she read the situation all wrong, that this isn't what she thought at all, but it's only a second, because, even though he hasn't spoken a word, Lucas has matched her smile and he holds her gaze steady and sure). Lucas nods once, slow and only noticeable because she is staring so intently at him, but then he pulls his hand away from hers. He doesn't give her a chance to worry about what that means, because he only pulls away to make better use of his hands. One finds the base of her neck and the other cradles her cheek, his fingers stroking against her skin yet again as he draws her close. They have been this close before, but Maya's sure she's never really looked at Lucas (although, god knows, he's made a habit of seeing her clearly) because it's like a veil has been lifted and she can suddenly see _everything_ (the deepest colors of his eyes, every inch of skins he wants to trace with her fingertips until she has it memorized, the curve of his smile just before his lips meet hers). She hardly has a chance to take it all in before her head is swimming with other things, because Lucas is kissing her (if, at that point, she could focus on anything it would be how ridiculously amazing it feels to have Lucas pull her into his arms, drag her onto his lap, and kiss her like she's the most wonderful thing he's ever tasted. And honestly, it's so good, she wants to pinch herself. Part of her is suspicious of how wonderful it is, the part of her that believed hope is for suckers, the part that stepped back, stepped away, _ran_ away. The rest of her—the rest of her knows better. She could lose herself in this and love every second of it). For all the difficulties she has always thought would be tied to this moment, it's as easy as letting go (it's hard to tell how hard it is resisting its pull until you let gravity do its job. Maya knows she was holding back before, this they had admitted to each other, but she couldn't have imagined what doing so was doing to her, not like she realizes now. The palpable relief consumes her and she knows she can never go back to fighting this. It would kill her, figuratively and most likely literally too). She's waited years to get to a moment when this would be possible, but in seconds they've shed all that wasted time and now each second that comes next is better than the last. She wants to crawl even closer, bury herself into the comfort every part of him offers, and he's willing to let her (the most important part is she's going to let herself). Maya threads her fingers through Lucas's hair, slowing her ministrations as the pace of their kisses slows to a languid melding of lips and tongues. She doesn't want it to end, this first kiss, but it's drawing to that end. Lucas's fingers tighten against her in a gentle squeeze and he presses one last soft kiss to her lips before he pulls away.

A smile tugs at Lucas's lips and he looks at Maya. "So, you didn't have on my bed in my dorm room on your list of places I could kiss you, but since I'm still alive and breathing, I'm going to assume that it was okay anyway."

Maya breathes in a shaky breath in time with the rise and fall of Lucas's chest. "You're not breathing all that well _now_ , are you Huckleberry?"

Lucas's breath catches on a pleasured groan as his head drops to Maya's neck. He presses a kiss to the crook of her neck and lets his teeth graze along her collar bone, drawing a shiver of delight from her. "God it's good to hear you call me that again. Let's not go back to a point where you don't."

Maya draws his face back up to hers, her hands cradling each of his cheeks and her thumbs stroking small circles against his skin. She matches the grin that still graces his lips. "That's a deal I think I can make."

"I'll hold you to that," Lucas says, his fingers tickling her sides.

Maya leans forward and lets her nose nudge against his as her words flitter with her breath against his lips. "Or you could just hold _me_."

"I can do that," Lucas agrees, smile as wide as ever.

(and so he did).


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This is the last chapter. Holy cow, finally. Hopefully the start of some of the other stories I have in my pocket will follow in not too much time. Well, thanks for reading this one, as long as it has taken me to finish it up. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! ~Mac

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own GMW.

 **Seven**

Maya is in a bit of a daze when she returns to her dorm later that evening (she's got a dreamy smile on her face she knows she has no chance of wiping away. It's going to make what just happened between her and Lucas ridiculously obvious and Kendal is going to see through it five minutes before Maya even walks in the room, _that's_ how strongly she's sure it's radiating off of her, but that's fine, that's perfectly okay. It's time for Kendall to know the truth anyway, now that Maya knows what this all is herself. And _boy_ , did Lucas make it obvious to _her_ what he felt about it all. That's all she'll say about _that_ ). She knows on some level that her feet are leading her the right direction, but she can't really say how she crossed the distance between Lucas's dorm and her own. It's all kind of blurry because most of her mental energy is focused on playing through the past few hours over and over again (she's not sure if there's a limit to how many times a person can cycle through the same memory, but she's certainly not going to stop anytime soon. It's not something she's ever going to forget). She can still feel Lucas all over her, so heavily that it's almost like he's still wrapped around her. She doesn't want to lose that feeling (at least, not unlike she has something even better to replace it with, if that's even possible). There's something delicious about being able to savor it so thoroughly without any outside interruption or distraction, even if it runs the risk of stumbling off the sidewalk or running into a wall. There are so many explanations awaiting her once she walks through her door into her dorm, reality is waiting patiently for her return, and until that exact second she is going to enjoy the last of her privacy on the matter.

All things come to an end.

Maya hesitates outside her dorm room door, which she somehow managed to arrive at without any clumsy incidents. She's certain that Kendall is on the other side of this door and she has yet to figure out how to describe was happening. And even if Kendall isn't there, and is off and her own indescribable escapades, there's still Riley and Farkle and a dozen other people that probably need to hear the things she's still not sure how to say. But if this little experiment of theirs has given her anything (besides Lucas, of course, she's not going to forget about that one, singular, amazing and beyond unexpected result) it is the permission to be brave enough to be exactly who she is and to have exactly what she wants. So, with only one last deep breath, Maya throws open the door and steps inside.

Kendall is casually curled up on her bed with unopened and ignored textbooks spread out before her when Maya enters. Her roommate palms her phone, which had been the sole focus of her attention before Maya's arrival, and sets it aside. All this is done with a wide grin entirely for Maya's benefit. She should feel appropriately nervous being the center of Kendall's attention, and maybe she does, but it's buried under the impenetrable layer of overwhelming contentment and joy she's still reeling from (if she didn't feel so damn good, she would be scared. A smile that mischievous only spells trouble, especially from a girl like Kendall).

"Hello," Maya says. All of her movements are slowed to a crawl as she tentatively anticipates what is coming next. She can feel it looming, the unknown, as she comes further into her room and puts aside her keys and her other things.

"Well, well, well, Maya Papaya, don't you look happy as a pig in slop," Kendall says as she slides into a more upright position to keep Maya in her sights.

Maya laughs despite herself, even though the intensity of Kendall's studying gaze makes her just the slightest bit nervous (and by slight, she meant excessively, but she's trying to be tough). "What do you know about pigs _or_ slop?"

"Not a darn thing," Kendall admits. "Maybe your Cowboy would be able to clue us in. I take it from the _smile_ on your face, the two of you have been getting to know each other very well. Looks like you've grown quite close. Haven't you?"

"About that…" Maya trails off as she makes the decision to be one hundred percent honest (because, what use will it be to finally be with Lucas completely as themselves if they can't be that in front of their new friends?). "The thing about Lucas is…"

"You've known him since middle school, he's basically your best friend already, and you've been putting on this elaborate ruse all this time?" Kendall hooks an eyebrow upward.

Maya is stunned silent. Her mouth wobbles like a fish a few times as she tries to find words to no avail (of all the crazy things that have left Kendall's mouth in the time she's known her, nothing has shocked Maya the way this simple statement of truth has).

"Is _that_ the thing about Lucas that you were going to tell me? Or was that still supposed to be a secret?" Kendall continues. "Maybe there is something _else_ you wanted to share with me?"

Maya blinks. " _How_?"

Kendall rolls her eyes with her usual dramatic flair. "Maya, Maya, Maya, my dear. Give me a little credit. I _know_ these things—"

"Oh ho ho, no you don't," Maya shakes her head and waves her hands out in front of her. "That's not something you can just pluck out of thin air with your alleged freaky romantic intuition. Spill it. _How did you know_?"

"Your eyebrow has gone a little twitchy so I can tell you're getting annoyed with me, so in my defense, I didn't know that first night or even when I set you up at the coffee shop—I mean, I would have still done those things even if I _had_ known, but, to be clear, my intentions were good and entirely the innocent actions of a girl looking out for her stubborn roommate's best interests—"

"Kendall."

"Right," Kendall says, a sheepish smile forming effortlessly. "My point, I had one. Remember when my laptop crapped out right in the middle of that critical thinking essay and you let me borrow yours?"

Maya's eyes widen. "You snooped on my laptop?"

"Hey, you _know_ me. You left that door wide open and unguarded when you agreed to let me use it. You can't be mad at me without accepting your share of the responsibility," Kendall holds up a singled pointed finger and Maya sighs with a roll of her eyes. "It should have been expected and you should have known better. That's all I'm saying. Anyway. I took a break from my essay to go through your pictures and _geez_ , Hart, he is all over your history. Like, just everywhere. It wasn't hard to put two and two together after that. Also, thinking back, that first night should have been a dead giveaway, because if I could get a stranger to look at me the way Lucas did at that party, my life would be five thousand percent set. Like walk me down the aisle and say I do set. Soulmate status. Locked down."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Maya asks.

"Why didn't _you_?" Kendall counters.

"I don't know," Maya blows out a huff of air and moves to flop down on the edge of her bed. Kendall shifts to drop her legs over the side of her bed so she's right across from Maya as she starts to explain. "It was like we hit a reset button I never knew I wanted to hit. It was like I finally understood why people get so obsessed with going back to their pasts in those time travel movies, when I never did before. I always thought I had no regrets. Only it turned out I did and didn't know it until you presented me with an opportunity to fix them. I got to change things, you know, without the complication of undoing everything we had already been through. I couldn't let go of that—at least not until I saw where it could lead."

"That's a good answer," Kendall says, wiping away an imaginary tear. "Really romantic _. Now_. The real question is: how did you possibly make it all these years without jumping Lucas before this? This sounds like a joke, but I'm being beyond serious, _honest_. I saw middle school Lucas, and, I mean, for like a thirteen year old he was pretty much the same delicious specimen. How the hell did you resist? If I was you, and had an affinity for nice, homegrown cowboys with faces like a Greek god and bodies that made literal drool leave girls' mouths, I would have caved in a hot second."

"That is wildly inappropriate," Maya blinks at her and shakes her head in disbelief even as she can't help the breathy laugh that leaves her. "You _do_ hear the things that come out of your mouth, don't you?" 

Kendall scrunches up her face, thinking, "Mostly." She holds up a pinched thumb and forefinger. "About sixty three percent."

"How do you even come up with that number?"

Maybe one day Maya will explain all the drama of middle school and the early years of high school, all about Riley, all the obstacles Maya never knew were obstacles, but not today. Today she's going to hold on to what she has now. There's nothing left to regret, nothing she needs to change or take back. There's only one direction she needs to go now and it's forward. It's time to see what the future has to teach her, but first there's this.

"So," Kendall says when their laughter over her clear eccentricities (that Maya realizes she's come to appreciate) subsides. "Care to tell me _exactly_ what happened with Lucas just now? Play to your audience. Spare no gritty detail. I want to hear it all."

Maya smirks. "Why should I have to tell you? I thought you _knew_ these things?"

(A girl has to have _some_ secrets after all. This one is for her, she thinks).

…

(before)

"I think your bed is more comfortable than mine," Maya says as she curls in closer to Lucas's side, her body half flung over his as they cuddle beneath his blankets.

"Funny, since not that much of you is actually on my bed at the moment," Lucas replies.

"You complainin'?" Maya gently nips at his shoulder which happens to be advantageously located for her access. She nuzzles her face in closer to his neck and nips at the skin over his rapid pulse there too.

"Nope," Lucas says and the groan that punctuates his answer rumbles through her whole body as they are so intimately pressed together.

"Good," Maya grazes his skin with her teeth once more before she soothes the spot with soft open mouth kisses.

Lucas's hands tighten on her hips and he drags her over so she lays full atop him, legs on either side of his. Before she can protest the change in position, he's pulling her down to crush his lips against hers in a bruising, urgent kiss. She loses track of everything else as every atom of her focuses in on the meeting of their lips and tongues (they've settled easy into the rhythmic cycle of rest and physical affection. They've given new meaning to "can't keep their hands off of each other." Eventually, she will have to excavate herself from his arms, and his bed, and his room, and return to her own dorm for the night, but she would be dishonest if she were to say she didn't want to live right in this spot. How they had gone so long without this aspect of their relationship confounds her. She'll never be able to look at him again without wanting to be doing this and more, so much more, all of it). When she pulls away, she is breathless, dizzy and dreamy. She sits up, still astride him, just to put enough space between them to catch her breath. If she stays in reach of his lips, she'll only kiss him again until her lungs give out on her.

Lucas's fingers massage her hops, gently kneading, as if he's aching to bring her closer again. The same ache is in his eyes as he looks up at her. She's sure the same is reflected in her eyes and every move she makes (and people think they have nothing in common). For all the ways they are different they are the same in this one vital instance.

Maya smiles down at him. "Do you remember the yearbook?"

Of all the yearbooks they've collected over the years, she can really only mean one and it only takes a second for recognition to reach his eyes. He nods, short and brief, waiting for her to share what had brought that to her mind. She shrugs on shoulder to her cheek and takes a moment to really study Lucas's face.

"They saw this before we did," Maya says, "Even when we were so different."

"What was it they said about us?" Lucas asks. He looks at her expectantly and she can tell he already knows the answer himself. He just wants to hear her say it.

"Fi-yah!" Maya answers, complete with the appropriate hand gestures.

"They were right about us. About all of it. There was a spark between us that ignited long before we acknowledged it. And a lot of things have tried to put it out," Lucas says. He leans up to bring them face to face again. "I'm just glad nothing managed to."

Maya kisses him light and quick. "Me too."

Lucas runs his hands up her back, along her neck and up into her hair. He draws her into another deeper kiss. It's only been a moment since she agreed with him, but it's not until this second that she genuinely believes it, because this feeling is like a fire that has threatened to consume her since the first time they kissed. She can feel that passionate burning from her fingers to her toes. He sets her ablaze with a single touch and she has to believe she does the same to him. She has never experienced an attraction, a desire, a longing, so vibrant and intense, like this with anyone else before. She can't imagine anyone but Lucas could ever inspire such an all-encompassing sensation within her (and, honestly, that's a theory she doesn't need to test). The match has been struck and nothing stands a chance against it.

Farkle could expound on the components of the chemical reaction that creates fire and why it is an apt metaphor for an experience that has brought heat and light into their lives, but Maya is not Farkle and she has an entirely different chemical reaction in mind, that require far more _hands on_ knowledge (and, so far, this is an experiment she will not hesitate to repeat over and over, and over again for good measure just to be extra certain that the results are replicable). Riley would find some way to make this sound like some dreamy, romantic fairytale, and while Maya is all for the storybook ending, she knows this is grounded deeply in reality (she knows, because it's something she feels in every nerve and cell that makes her up. It flows through her veins and warms her from the inside out. And maybe that's a little flowery and romantic when it's put into words, but it's more organic than it is fictitious). Kendall will just want to force all the little, intimate details out of a resistant Maya, and will likely succeed for reasons that are a mystery to her (she imagines a cartoon schoolyard bully version of Kendall picking up an exaggeratedly tiny Maya by her toes and hanging her upside down until all her secrets and lunch money spill out of her pockets). Clearly, right or wrong, there are a million ways the people in their lives are going to see this thing between them, but, at least for a little while longer, this is just between them.

"So, Huckleberry," Maya says, her hands stroking up and down his shoulders, once they come up for air again.

"Yes, Maya?" Lucas meets her eyes and holds her gaze.

Maya smiles. "What do we do now?"

…

-fin-


End file.
